


All the Memories of the Days You Lost

by Anony_Moouse



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Friendship/Love, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Inspired by a Movie, M/M, Marvel Universe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-07
Updated: 2014-05-13
Packaged: 2018-01-23 22:31:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 10
Words: 34,255
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1581764
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anony_Moouse/pseuds/Anony_Moouse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The new world is complicated. Captain Liam Payne woke up in the Arctic and found that in 50 years, a lot could change. He is fighting for a cause he doesn’t understand, against enemies no one will explain. Even his own partner, the Black Widower, seems to have an agenda he won’t explain to Liam.<br/>And in trying to understand, Liam may have uncovered an even deeper conspiracy.</p><p>But in the pursuit of the truth Captain England confronts an enemy wearing a painfully familiar face as his past and this strange new future collide.<br/> </p><p>OR</p><p>The Captain America!AU no one asked for, but got anyway.</p><p>NOW COMPLETE.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer This is a fictional representation of an assumption made about the public perception of a picture of a person. My characters are based on the fandom’s idea of the boys, and are by no means an attempt to capture the actual personality. So, no basis in reality, k?
> 
> So. Here is a thing I have been working on! After The Winter Soldier came out, some evil people on tumblr made manips of Liam and Louis as Steve and Bucky. I really stood no chance against that. So there is my attempt to give justice to such a beautifully painful idea!  
> The story is complete, just editing left to do. I should have it all posted within a week or so. So be not afraid of the WIP status!  
> This is a strange and disjointed amalgamation of comic book and movie canon, liberally fused with my own crazy ideas. Fun! So don’t expect it to follow the movie- at all really. Or make sense. God, what have I done.  
> Story is not beta’d, all mistakes are mine entirely. Any criticisms are welcomed. If you see a plot hole, let me know! Plot is really secondary here to man pain. I have my priorities!  
> Let me know if its ok!  
> Cheers,  
> Anony.
> 
> Title from Shadow of a Man by Neulore. Great song - give a listen!
> 
> P.S. Passing knowledge of the Captain America plot lines is probably needed... I'm sorry!

       “And then I said, if you liked that, you should come up and see my guitar!” Niall finished with a panting laugh. On the treadmill next to him, Jim covered his face with both hands and groaned while Terry wiggled his eyebrows suggestively.

       “Don’t stop there, Horan, come on! How did that ‘guitar’ showing go for you?”

       “A ha,” Niall shook his finger in mock rebuke, “A gentleman never tells!” Terry snorted loudly, reaching over the handlebars of his own machine to clap Jim on the back.

       “Look around you, Horan. No gentlemen here!” Niall threw his head back and laughed, his giggles growing as his friends joined in. Niall’s laugh tapered off, but the smile stayed on his face as to glanced around at his friends, all around him. He thought he had lost this. When the doctors had told him his knee injury was permanent and his military career was over, Niall wasn’t sure what he was going to do. Being a flyboy was all he knew. The barracks, the food, the constant travelling; it was all in his blood. And the job sucked at times, but the camaraderie and the brotherhood? Those Niall loved. To have lost it entirely… Well, Niall didn’t like to think about that. But being honorably discharged would have been much worse if his counseling job hadn’t landed him in the middle of London’s largest military base.

            The conversation continued around Niall, but he let it blur into the background and concentrated on the even beat of his feet against the tread of the machine. Each step was light and easy, not the faintest sign of a limp. Niall let his eyes slip shut for a moments, quietly reveling in the fact that he could run again, something none of the doctor’s had dared to guarantee. His long basketball shorts hid the scars; none but he knew of the injury. Niall opened his eyes, and upped the speed on the treadmill. Niall liked it that way.

       Out of the corner of his eye, Niall saw a flurry of limbs. The sudden movement took his attention away from his knee. The boxing area in the corner of the gym was usually occupied by a few people, sparring or practicing. But today, there was single a man in the ring, working on a hanging heavy bag. Niall watched halfheartedly as the man punched it once, twice, three times in rapid succession, before changing his footing smoothly and repeating the motion. And… whoa.  Niall blinked, but the image didn’t change. The man had just punched through the bag. There was quiet literally a hole in the leather, with the man’s fist imbedded in it. Niall watched the man freeze for a moment, his arm still tensed and extended. Then his shoulders unclenched, and slumped down limply. He pulled his fist out of the bag, and with a single hand, lifted it off the hook and threw it in the corner. His arms did not even seem to strain under the weight. Consciously closing his hanging jaw, Niall glanced quickly around; someone else had to have seen what just happened. But everyone was carrying on with their business, giving no notice to the boxer. In fact, Niall noticed, no one was looking at the boxer. Almost deliberately so.

            “Hey Jim?” Niall asked, breaking back into the conversation he had lost complete track of. “Who is the bloke in boxing over there?”

            “Who?” Jim asked distractedly, glancing in the direction of Niall’s less than clandestine head bob. The man had somehow found a new bag, and was casually slinging it over the ceiling hooks as though the 80 pound bag was a pillow. Jim glanced back at Niall, “Him?” He asked, thumbing in the boxer’s direction. Niall rolled his eyes. “Of course him.” He said; as though there were any other boxers of interest.

            “He does that everyday.” Jim said.  Niall blinked at him. The answer certainty explained the practiced disinterest of the other people, but failed rather spectacularly to answer’s Niall’s question.

            “But who is he?” Niall reasserted. It was Jim’s turn to look at Niall in confusion.

            “Seriously,” Jim asked, eyes wide, “You don’t know? Horan, that’s Captain England right there!” Niall stared at Jim for a moment, sure that he was being had on, but Jim’s earnest expression didn’t change. Niall nodded, exhaling slowly. Ok. He guessed that made sense.

            “So, that’s the frozen guy from World War II?” Niall asked carefully, just to clarify. A lot of crazy things had happened here during his last tour, and Niall wasn’t sure he was entirely up to date on it all. A war hero from his grandfather’s era working out in him gym certainly qualified as an interesting development though.

            “Yup.” Jim nodded sagely, “He practices here when he isn’t out saving the world.” Niall accepted this information, and glanced back towards the boxer – the Captain, Niall corrected himself. Everyone was still studiously not looking at him, to the point of ignoring his very existence. Niall wrinkled his nose. Privacy was all fine and dandy, but everyone needed a hello every now and then, right?

            “Does no one practice with him?” Niall asked. Jim missed a step on his treadmill, but quickly righted himself and managed to stare askance at Niall.             

       “He’s CAPTAIN ENGLAND. You don’t just go up and practice with him.” Jim whispered, as though the very thought was sacrilegious.

       “Why?” Niall asked slowly

       “He’s a hero, Niall.” Jim said, each word carefully emphasized. Niall knew exactly what Jim meant. Men like Captain England were esteemed, protected and held in awe. Respectful distance was to be maintained. It was an unspoken code. That, however, didn’t mean Niall was going to listen. He shrugged his shoulders easily, flashed Jim a quick smile and hopped off the treadmill. He could hear Jim sputtering behind him, and a few of his other buddies asking what the hell he was doing, but Niall walking on. He slowly maneuvered around people and machines until he could touch the ropes signifying the sparring range. The Captain was circling the bag, eyeing it with single-minded intent. Niall was very glad he was not the punching bag.

       “What did that bag ever do to you?” He asked; he wanted to interrupt before the Captain started swinging, and the distraction would be even more of an annoyance. The Captain jumped at the words, head swinging towards Niall at an almost comedic speed. The Captain stared at Niall, and blinked. Niall watched as his eyes darted away from Niall and around the room, as though looking for whom Niall could possibly be speaking to. Niall waited, smiling slightly. The Captain cleared his throat a little, and dropped out of his ready pose.

       “Oh, nothing.” He said quietly, as though he still wasn’t sure Niall had been speaking to him, “Its just, I sometimes punch harder than I mean and they break – I don’t mean to.” The Captain’s gaze skittered from Niall to the bag and to the floor, as though he didn’t know where to look. His shoulders were squared but his gloved hands were rubbing absently together, and Niall wondering if, had the gloves not been there, he might have been wringing his hands. If was as if he was expecting Niall to laugh at him, or yell.

       “Well you showed it either way! Well done!” Niall smiled easily, “Mind if I sit here and watch?” He didn’t wait for an answer before he plopped himself down at the side of the ring. The Captain’s eyes widened and he took a step forward, whether to wave Niall off or invite him into the ring, Niall wasn’t sure. Either way, Niall shook his hands at the Captain.

       “No, no! Carry on! I am just going to observe.” He said, wrapping his arms around one of the posts, and letting his chin rest on his forearms.  He turned his face up and smiled at the Captain. The Captain paused, staring at Niall in obvious confusion. He took a slow, measured step backwards towards the heavy bag and glanced back at Niall once more before dropping into the ready pose. Niall watched as he rolled his shoulders, exhaled deeply and loosened his stance, and began to circle the bag.

       His punches were brutal; Niall winced at the deep, groaning protest the bag made as each hit connected. But from here, Niall could see the careful footwork, and quick, fluid movements of the Captain’s entire body. It was impressive. Niall saw no reason to hide his admiration. Each solid hit Niall punctuated with an exclamation and a cheer. Once he was sure his input wasn’t going to affect the Captain’s concentration, he started commentating.

       “Dear god, if that bag wasn’t lashed to the roof, I am pretty sure that one would have sent to have to Baghdad! Oh! Ouch! You know boxing started in Greece, eh? One of the original Olympic games, it was. Solid hit there! Used to be a fight to the death. No worries though - I am pretty sure you would have been a champion. Hoh!” Niall threw his hands up as once again, the Captain punched straight through the bag, bits of fluff exploding around his fist like rubble. “Sodding brilliant, that is. You definitely would have survived Ancient Greece.” Niall crowed, his smile stretching his cheek. This was the most fun he had had in weeks. The Captain glanced back at him, head cocked to the side and lips turned in a half smile.

       “You think so?” He asked hesitantly.

       “You are rather incredible, Captain. Now, go get another bag. I want to see how you do with kicking.” The Captain grabbed the dead bag, and Niall found the effortless display of strength was no less entertaining the second time.

       The Captain quickly returned with another bag. He hung it easily, dropped into his stance and hesitated.

       “You can call me Liam. If you wanted to.” The Captain said, eyes still trained on the bag. Niall didn’t try to contain his smile.

       “Aye, aye, Liam!” He said happily. Jim may have been right. Captain Payne was a hero. But Niall was pretty sure even heroes needed friends.

 

* * *

 

       Niall stood in front of the gym doors, staring at them helplessly.

       “I can’t do it,” He moaned, leaning forward until his forehead was resting against the cool, cool glass. “I have nothing left, no energy, no shits to give. I can’t even open the doors.” He drew out the last words, until it faded into a moan. He let his eyes drift shut, leaving them closed even as hands pressed on his shoulders, pushing him into the doors, opening them and propelling him into the sunlight.

       “You are a cruel man, Liam Payne.” Niall groused, “I am never going running with you again. Ever.” Niall heard the man behind him snort, and glanced back to glare. Liam was walking slowly behind him, a wide grin splitting his face. He had the audacity to look fresh and relaxed, though he had just run 50 miles in 40 minutes. Yes, he was carrying Niall’s gym bag but Niall still hated him a little.

       “You have been out of the service too long, Niall. Your cardio has obviously suffered.” Liam teased. Never mind. Niall hated Liam a lot.

       “I fly, you relic. You don’t need lung power to do that.” He said delicately, turning away from Liam with an exaggerated sniff. He heard Liam laugh, and quicken his steps until he fell into pace with Niall. He bumped his shoulder against Niall’s, and Niall had seen what those stupidly muscled shoulders were capable of; he knew Liam was taking extra care not to send him flying. Niall let his forced frown fade, and glanced over at Liam’s smiling face, unable to keep his own grin down. Becoming Captain England’s gym buddy was, agonizing leg cramps aside, probably the best choice he had made since discharge.

       “Some of the boys are I are gonna grab a brew over at the Fifth Avenue Pub tonight.” Niall said, “Come join us.” He looked expectantly at Liam. Liam’s smile slid off his face, and was replaced by a frown, his whole face twisting in obvious discomfort.

       “I can’t. Um. Alcohol doesn’t really do… I can’t get drunk.” Niall didn’t try to hide his eye roll, overly familiar with this argument. He stopped walking, grabbing at Liam’s arm until he stopped moving as well.

       “That is hardly the point, Cap. Going to the pub is just an excuse to talk; to be friends.” He reached up, placing his hands on Liam’s shoulders. “I need to teach you about all the music you have missed!” He gave Liam a small shake, grinning Liam allowed Niall to move him back and forth. “And beer is delicious, even if you don’t get the lovely side effects. Come!” Niall had made this argument with Liam almost weekly since he had forced his friendship on the other man a month ago, but today he could see a weakening in Liam’s eyes. Niall could almost taste victory; it tasted like beer.       

       A tiny chime echoed from Liam’s gym bag before Niall even began to celebrate his success. Liam grimaced and sent Niall an apologetic look even as he fished his phone out of his bag. Niall let his head fall forwards, chin to chest, and let out a deep, heartfelt groan. Only one person texted Captain England, and it always led to the same thing. Niall looked up at Liam as he read the message, and could almost see the cool, professional mask of the Captain take the place of the goofy man he had come to know.

       “Duty calls, eh?” Niall drolled. Liam lifted his eyes to meet Niall, and Niall could see the painfully sincere and embarrassed apology bubbling in his mouth. He waved his hand frantically in Liam’s face, cutting the words off before they could begin.

       “Don’t even start, Captain. Who am I to get in the way of national security? Go, save the world again. But, ” He stuck a finger out, an inch away from Liam’s nose. He was slightly gratified to see Liam flinch back a little, his eyes wide and focused on Niall’s finger. “Do not think I will forget how close I came to victory today.” Niall cautioned, “I expect a rain check, Captain. You can’t escape this.” Liam smiled, a little crookedly, but the professional mask cracked a little with it, and Niall considered his mission a success.

       “I won’t let you down, Mr. Horan.” Liam said, even as the matte black convertible swerved around the corner, tires squealing before sliding to a stop next to them. Niall shook his head. He was pretty sure Liam’s partner waited around the corner and once he was sure Liam had received his text, timed his entrance for maximum effect. Heroes were so predictably dramatic.

       The door opened, and Niall could just see in the dim interior of the car the familiar shape of Liam’s partner. The carefully coiffed hair, sharp cheeks and shaded eyes were quite distinctive; Niall crouched down and waved with exaggerated enthusiasm. The coiffed man raised a single eyebrow, and didn’t deign to return Niall’s greeting, instead gestured impatiently towards Liam. Niall shook his head; three times he had encountered this man, and he had yet to hear his voice. But there was time; Liam’s friends would be his friends, or something like that.

       “Don’t think I will forget, Payne! You and I have beers to drink when you get back!” Liam glanced back, and waved quickly at Niall, before the car peeled away from the curb almost before Liam’s door was shut. Niall watched, bemused, as the car disappeared around the corner. Dramatic. Heroes. He shrugged his shoulders easily, and turned in the direction of the tube station. Whatever. He had beers to drink.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See first chapter for full notes and disclaimer.

            “What’s the situation?” Liam asked as they drove down the highway. He settled into his seat, and tried not to look at the cars outside the window. He had learned to tolerate Zayn’s brand of breakneck driving, even appreciated it for all the times it had saved their lives. He trusted Zayn to maintain control but that didn’t mean he had to watch.

             “He looked nice.” Zayn said instead.  

            “He is a friend, Malik.” Liam said tiredly; he knew where this was going. If it wasn’t Chloe from statistics, then Zayn was trying to set Liam up with his curly haired neighbor. Liam didn’t need Zayn’s intervention; he was perfectly able to get his own dates, thank you very much. He chose not to. 

            “He looked… very friendly.” Liam was still getting used to the innuendo people infused into everyday conversation, and how perfectly innocent comments were anything but. However, Zayn’s tone made it perfectly clear, even to Liam, exactly what he meant by friendly. 

            “It’s not like that.” Liam said quietly. 

            “It would fine if it was.” Zayn’s eyes were on the road, but Liam knew Zayn was watching him out of the corner of his eye, gauging his reaction. And Liam appreciated the support- he did!- but he didn’t want to think about dating. He may be 95 years old, but some losses took longer than that to get over. 

            “I know! Trust me, I know.” Liam snapped before he noticed his hand inching, without his consent, down towards his back pocket. He quickly fisted his fingers and drew them back to his lap, but he wasn’t naïve enough to think Zayn had missed the movement. 

            “Its ok to date. You deserve a date.” Zayn’s voice was soft. Sometimes Liam wished his partner were a little less perceptive. It would make ignoring his own issues much simpler. He flashed Zayn a wide smile. 

            “Who has time for that? What with you pulling me away in the middle of the day for… what are we doing again?” Zayn looked away from the road, and met Liam’s gaze long enough to convey that he knew exactly what Liam was doing. Liam tried to meet his eyes and not pay attention to the fact that Zayn was now driving blind. Insanity lay that way. 

            “Hostage situation near Yemen.” Zayn said finally, pulling a tablet from his jacket pocket and tossing it at Liam. Liam caught it easily and opened it, settling into his seat to read the details. Dealing with work was simple. 

            “Ah.” He said absently, “I’ve always wanted to visit Yemen.”

 

* * *

  

            Liam's mask was stuck to his face, equally slick with sweat and gritty with sand. A gunshot from one of the guards had skimmed his upper arm. While his skin had already knitted together and the blood had dried on his sleeve, the area was tender and his muscles groaned every time he extended his arms. But Liam was good at ignoring little things like pain. 

            While the encampment had been heavily guarded, he, Zayn and three SHIELD soldiers had been able to make quick work of the rebels. The three surviving guards were already on their way to the storage bay of the quinjet: gagged, cuffed and ready for questioning.  

            Liam's job was to calm the traumatized hostages they had rescued, now huddled together in the quinjet's main bay. They were smelly from days without washing, skin dry and layered with dirt. Liam could see a few baring the signs of beatings: black eyes and purpling wrists. But all were mobile and their hurts were fixable. 

             This was why the pain seemed such a tiny thing. Liam would take any number of bullets if it meant he could help one more person make it home.

             The bay door slid open. Liam glanced up from were he was kneeling, bandaging a cut on a hostage’s knee. Zayn slipped through the door, almost indistinguishable from the shadows in his black jump suit.  Liam watched as Zayn’s eyes flicked once over the hostages. Liam smirked a little to himself; he knew now Zayn would remember each and every hostage’s face, filed away for future reference. 

            He patted the man in front of him on his newly bandaged knee. The man was staring at him with wide, almost bulging eyes. Most of them were, in fact.  They hadn't spoken much, simply followed him with dazed compliance from the moment he had broken down their cell door. Liam had gotten used to this reaction, inasmuch as he figured he ever would. People regarded him with an awe and reverence that Liam knew he didn't deserve; he was sure it would wear off once the novelty of his arrival to the current century eased away. 

            Liam stood smoothly, ignoring the quickly diminishing ache of his thigh muscles. Zayn was standing next to the doorway, silent and motionless. By hard taught experience, Liam knew this was a signal for a talk. If Liam lingered much longer, things would be thrown at his head, such as chairs and knives. Antagonizing the Black Widower was at times Liam's favorite thing to do after a long mission but the bedraggled people in front of him seemed to have experienced enough trauma without having to see their rescuers tussling. 

            Zayn watched his approach. He was standing with his feet shoulders width apart, shoulders loose, and hands clasped gently at his back. His posture was relaxed, loose and screamed the potential for easy violence.   Liam wasn't sure the poor hostages really deserved the intimidation performance, but it tended to put Zayn in a better mood so he wasn't going to argue. Liam had often wondered if Zayn practiced this look in the mirror. Recently, when they were alone, Zayn had begun to fidget, to sprawl on chairs and nap in increasing uncomfortable places.  It was only when strangers were present that he reverted to the persona of dangerous assassin. If that was even the right word, Liam thought as he stopped next to Zayn, carefully mirroring his pose. Dangerous wasn't a persona for Zayn, he wore it with more ease than he did relaxation. Maybe the Zayn Liam now saw in private was just another, more carefully guarded facet of his partner.  The thought made Liam smile. Zayn narrowed his eyes, glaring lightly at Liam, and Liam wondered not for the first time, if Zayn could read minds.  God, he hoped not. 

            "Captain and nursemaid. Is there anything you don't do, Payne?" Zayn said, drawing the words out slowly, voice infused with gentle mocking.  

            "I just want to help." Liam replied simply.  The words were true, but Liam made sure to twist his tone, adding a dose of practiced sincerity he knew made Zayn's eyes twitch. Zayn did not disappoint; his eyelids spasmed in what Liam knew to be an aborted eye roll. Liam allowed himself a satisfied smile.  This time, Zayn didn't stop his eye roll. Liam relished all moments of levity; god knew with the horrors their job put them through, every laugh should be savored. But this job wasn't quite over yet.    

            "The prisoners? " Liam asked. 

             "Secured. De-poisoned. They will live to be interrogated, much to their displeasure." Zayn said the final words with a wolfish grin that made Liam shiver. He knew Zayn and SHIELD too well to think the words were a false bravado. 

             "You were late." Liam said.  Zayn blinked at Liam before carefully arching one of his dark eyebrows, face twisted in an expression of exaggerated confusion.  

            "You missed our rendezvous point." Liam clarified. In the calm moments before the jump into battle, the plan had been decided on. Zayn had been to disable the camp's security and communication capabilities from the control room while Liam took out the guards on the outside. They were supposed to have met outside the hostage cell, to guard the retreat from two sides. Zayn hadn't shown up. Even now, standing beside Zayn in the aftermath of a successful mission, Liam could still feel the cold lump that had formed in the pit of his stomach when Zayn hadn't responded to him over the comms. Liam had lost too much to take even simple lateness lightly. Zayn's shoulders tightened and his eyes softened, as though he knew what thoughts Liam's mind had jumped to when his presence had been missed.

             "I had more work to do in the control room" Zayn said softly.  

            “But. The alarms were already down.” Liam said, “The pilot had confirmed the communications were down within thirty seconds of you getting there." Zayn met Liam's eyes head on, but said nothing. He shuffled his feet. Liam felt his eyes widen. From Zayn, Liam had never seen a larger indicator of discomfort.  Especially in public. Liam swallowed against the bitter taste forming in the back of his throat. 

            "Information gathering wasn't in our mission briefing". He said slowly, chest tight with the hope that Zayn was going to deny the implication and give him a better explanation. Zayn said nothing, just met Liam’s gaze evenly. His jaw was tight, his posture stiff after his single shuffle. His eyes were hard and gave no quarter. 

            “Wasn't on my mission briefing.” Liam amended quietly, “Oh.” Liam let his eyes slide closed and nodded tightly. So that was how it was.  

            "Why now?" The dry scratched voice broke the standoff; Liam gave a start and turned towards the hostages to see who had spoken. It was the youngest, a woman who couldn’t have been more than freshly into her thirties. She was leaning heavily against the man sitting next to her as though gravity was more than she could bear. But her eyes were bright and hard.  

            "Why did you wait?" She continued in her grating, painful voice. Liam winced at the sound. He knew too well what it took for a voice to be reduced to such a thing. 

            "Couldn’t you have come sooner?" The woman finished in a whisper.  The man beside her put an arm around her shoulders, hugging her close to his side. It did nothing to soften her glare. Liam glanced at the other hostages, but none would meet his gaze.   

           "I'm sorry" Liam said, wincing at the inadequacy of the words. "How long were you there for?" The woman flinched. Liam took an instinctive step forward, arm raised in apology for his thoughtless question. But the woman straightened in her seat, leaning forward towards him.  

            "Ten days," she rasped. "Ten days they had us! Even if you had come yesterday, Martin would maybe be alive…" she trailed off with a groan, the rush of energy her indignation had given her expired. She slumped back down against her companion. The man wrapped his arms once more around her, pulled her close and whispered soft, gentle words into her hair. 

             "Come, Laura, come now." He murmured. His soft tone was at odds with his hard gaze as he glared at Liam and Zayn.

             Liam pressed his tongue against the front of his teeth as he fought the rise of indignation in his gut. He had tried. He had gotten them out. He had rescued every hostage in the complex and guided them safely to the quinjet.  He had done everything in his power to ensure their wellbeing and he shouldn't be the one to carry the blame for... The indignation flared out almost as fast as it had appeared, leaving a bitter residue of guilt behind. Obviously, Liam hadn’t gotten everyone out. Someone had been lost. It might have been before Liam knew anything about the mission, but as the leader that burden was Liam's to carry. 

            “I’m sorry.” Liam said, palms raised in apology for his useless words. He glanced helplessly at Zayn, but he was no help.  He was staring at Laura, unblinking. Laura was no longer giving either of them any heed, curled limply against her companion as though too exhausted to do more than breathe. 

            Liam watched her mourn until his eyes burned with the injustice of it. Ten days, they all had suffered and only now did SHIELD pay attention. Liam’s hand shot out and he grabbed Zayn’s arm and manhandled him into the hallway. The moment the door slid quietly shut, cutting them off from the people in the bay, Liam released Zayn and walked a step in front of him. Liam quickly ripped off his mask, fighting the impetuous urge to throw it to the ground. He wanted to face Zayn man to man, but he also wasn't sure he wanted to be a symbol of England right now.   

            "If they were hostages for ten days, why did we only come now?" He hissed quietly. Zayn was still staring back the way they had come as though he could see Laura through the steel of the closed door. Liam opened his mouth to repeat his question, the muscles in his back cording at Zayn’s seeming inattention. 

            "That wasn’t in our briefing." Zayn said evenly, cutting through Liam’s rising indignation,  "SHIELD learned new information yesterday, which raised the importance of the dealing with the situation." The words were smooth and almost robotic, as though read of a company policy sheet. Liam wanted to take Zayn’s words as a comfort, to take the vague answer as a confirmation that no one had known. But it was never that simple. New information implied a preceding level of knowledge. 

            “You missed the rendezvous point.” Liam said, not liking where his mind was going but unable to stop the connections from making sense.  

            “I was busy.” Zayn replied, but from the miniscule tightening of his posture, Liam knew Zayn was following his seeming non sequitur 

             “Busy with what?” Liam couldn't stop himself from pushing. He didn't want to know, but he had to know. Liam took another step towards Zayn until they were foot to foot, Liam using his few inches of extra height to loom over Zayn. Zayn finally met his gaze, a shot of fire sparking through his eyes before they returned to a trained blankness. Liam hated that look.

             “Work.” Zayn said sharply.

             “You were in the control room.”

             “Yes.” Zayn met Liam's gaze evenly. He wasn't going to make it easy, but Liam was distantly grateful Zayn was giving him the courtesy of not denying his agenda.  

            “Tell me Zayn, was our mission to save lives, or obtain that information?” Liam asked, the words bitter in his mouth but he was too tired to dance around with implications and half asked questions. Zayn regarded him carefully. 

            “Your mission was to save lives.” He said finally, trusting Liam to infer the rest. Liam felt a fissure of sparks run down his spine. He shoved Zayn away, ignoring the cut off grunt as Zayn hit the wall. Liam turned away and wrapped his hands around the back of his neck. He buried his fingers in the tender, short hairs there and pulled, reveling in the sharp shock of pain. Liam hoped for grounding, for clarity, but it did nothing to sooth the sharp feeling of betrayal.

             “Would we have even bothered if there wasn’t some sort of potential tactical gain?” Liam asked the wall, not sure he could face Zayn. Zayn was silent. Liam hadn't expected him to say anything; they both knew the answer. Liam nodded slowly, his nostrils flaring. He allowed one muted yell as he punched the wall, welcoming the rush of sharp pain shooting up his arm.  The metal crumpled like foil beneath his fist, but Liam found he didn't feel guilty for the destruction; there were bigger things to feel guilty for. 

 

* * *

  

            Director Dirksen’s secretary stood in alarm as Liam stomped off the elevator, but Liam paid him no heed as he stalked through the room to the director’s office. He threw open the door even as the secretary found his voice, 

            “Wait! You can’t do that!” The slightly panicked yell barely registered. Liam really didn’t care about what people thought he should be doing. 

            Director Dirksen was sitting at his desk, phone to his ear. Liam walked quickly up until he was standing directly in front of Dirksen. His hands were fisted at his sides, his chest heaving with indignation. Liam was still wearing his uniform, stained with dust, sand and blood. He knew he was in a state, but he didn’t care. Yet Dirksen acknowledged his presence with a single raised eyebrow and calmly continued his phone conversation.    

            “Oh, no. I entirely understand your concerns. ” He said into the phone, eyes locked on Liam. “I will be sending your people the security details for the launch. No, no bother, it’s my pleasure, Mr. Prime Minister. Thank you.” He hung up his phone, carefully nestling it in its cradle. He took a deep sip of water from the glass on his desk, and rearranged a stack of paper before steepling his fingers under his jaw and giving Liam his attention. 

            “I see you returned safely from Yemen, Captain.” He said mildly, “very recently.” He finished, nose wrinkled as he stared at Liam’s grim covered boots resting on the intricate carpet of his office.

             “My mission briefing was incomplete.” Liam said,

             “You were given every detail you needed to complete your task.”

             “Those hostages were there for days. One of them died because we were late. My own partner was given different orders than I.” The door to the office opened again; Liam glanced quickly behind him, just in time to see Commander Cowell slip into the room. Liam could almost hear the moans of Dirksen’s secretary. Cowell quickly looked from Liam to the Director. He took a deep breath, and turned to Liam, 

            “Captain…” Liam cut him off with a swipe of his hand.

             “No! I can’t work with people if I can’t trust that they are telling me the whole truth!  I can’t...”

            “Captain Payne.” Dirksen didn’t bother to raise his voice, the silky steel of his tone cutting through Liam’s speech without the benefit of volume. “Much of what you are saying seems to be around your own selfish wishes and desires. Oh, what a happy world we would have if every member of the military could feel contented about what their country needs of them.” Liam flinched back at the thick film of sarcasm coating Dirksen’s words, his eyes twisted with unrestrained contempt.  

            “You are an asset to your country, and a wonderful asset at that.” Dirksen leaned forward over his desk, a sneer twisting his lips, “But you are not privy to the inner workings of SHIELD. You do not have the mental delicacy to deal with international relations and policy.” Dirkson nostril’s flared in a delicate uptick; Liam felt a hot rush of shame at the obvious distaste in his commanding officer’s face. Cowell had crept slowly up, and was now at Liam’s side. His hand came to rest on Liam’s shoulder, though if it was a sign of support or a restraint, Liam didn’t know. Dirksen continued in a smooth, mellifluous voice, “Please do let those who understand the world continue to run it. Commander Cowell, please control your man. I have the launch of the new helicarrier to plan, I don’t have time to deal with his hurt feelings.” He gave an imperious flick of his wrist, and turned to his computer screen, the dismissal so obvious Liam’s head reeled. Cowell’s hand moved to clamp tightly around Liam’s wrist, tugging him out of the room. Liam didn’t resist, gaze locked on Dirksen’s disinterested figure until Cowell pulled him passed the door well. 

            Cowell didn’t let go until the elevator doors slid silently shut, cutting them off from the judgmental glare of the secretary. The elevator moved smoothly, a jarring  juxtaposition to the muddle of Liam’s mind. Liam had never held back his opinion when dealing with superior officers, had always expressed his thoughts and been heard. Never before had someone so callously disregarded a serious issue Liam had attempted to discuss. 

            “In the interest of your continued survival, I would recommend you don’t yell at the director.” Cowell said eventually. 

            “He was wrong.” Liam said. Dirksen could pontificate about priorities, but Liam would never let go of the conviction that a life should take precedence. Out of the corner of his eye, Liam saw Cowell shake his head. The elevator came to a delicate stop, and Cowell stepped forward as the doors slid open. He paused, half turning towards Liam. 

            “The world doesn’t operate by your lofty code of honor, Captain.” He said. Liam wasn’t sure if he imagined the strain of apology in Cowell’s caustic tone, but Cowell was gone before Liam could respond.  

             The doors slid closed again, and in the relative privacy of the elevator, Liam allowed himself the weakness of lowering his chin to his chest and releasing a single, shuddering exhale. When had it gotten so complicated? Liam wished, more than anything, for a friend. Someone he could talk to without worrying about loyalty and politics. Someone who would listen, and then tease him until Liam forgot his worries. If Liam was being honest himself, it wasn’t any friend he wanted; he wanted Louis back, some touchstone of home in this confusing new century. But wishes wouldn’t do anything for that.

            Since he was having a moment of honesty, Liam allowed himself to acknowledge that he was mad at Zayn, almost more than he was at Dirksen. He knew it was irrational and unfair, but his stomach burned at the thought of his partner. Liam wanted to trust Zayn, wanted to know he could rely not only on his protection, but on the choices he would make. But Zayn seemed to share the sensibilities of Dirksen, that information and subterfuge could be weighed against a human life and somehow come out on top. Liam didn't know how to deal with that. 

             But apparently, Liam was going to have to deal with it. The elevator doors slid open on the ground floor to reveal Zayn casually leaning against the wall, as though Liam was late to a planned appointment. Liam didn’t have the energy to wonder how Zayn had tracked him down, he was too tired to deal with more mysteries tonight. Liam gave Zayn a tight nod, before hurrying passed him. He had little hope of actually making it out of the building unaccosted, but his pride mandated that he try.

            “Captain.” Zayn’s said. Liam paused, giving a half turn so he could look at Zayn as he nodded in acknowledgment of the greeting

             “Malik.” Zayn took the words as an invitation and spun to fall into step with Liam. 

            “You were with Dirkson.” He said. 

            “Yes.” Liam said, not really wanting to expand on the rather disastrous meeting. 

            “How did that go?” Liam paused his stride, and waited for Zayn to stop and look back. He met Zayn’s mildly inquisitive gaze with raised eyebrows and thinned lips, hoping his expression conveyed his annoyance at Zayn’s innocent act. Zayn had the decency to hide his smile and say nothing. Liam shook his head, and starting walking again and found he almost didn’t mind Zayn’s steady presence at his side. They had almost reached the doors when Zayn spoke again. 

            “We all have to follow orders Captain; you should know that.” Liam turned to Zayn, a fiery retort ready on his lips, his simmering ire ready to spark again. Liam's fuse was too short to deal with Zayn's self-righteous preaching. But the words fell silent. Zayn wasn’t being self righteous; Zayn’s lips were turned down at the corners, his fingers twitched at his sides. He was nervous. If anything, his words seemed to be an unspoken apology. 

            Liam knew, deep down, that Zayn would never ask for forgiveness for completing his mission. He was a SHIELD man, had been long before Liam had awoken. His loyalty was to the organization, and it wasn’t fair for Liam to fault him for that. Liam felt some of his righteous anger drain away, leaving him exhausted.   

            “I know Zayn. I just…” Zayn shook his head, a tiny back and forth so subtle Liam wasn't sure he saw it. But he listened; even now, he didn’t know how to ignore his partner. 

            “Dinner is served in the mess?” Zayn said, a wary invitation in his voice.  But Liam was tired of SHIELD, of the building, of the gray walls, of the people. For the first time since the war, he was tired of being the captain. Sitting in the mess hall, with the weight of all those eyes, staring at him like something from a circus- no, that seemed a little bit like hell tonight.  

            “Not tonight.” He said. Zayn took a step back, nodding quickly. Liam’s brow creased, a twinge of guilt twisting his stomach at what Zayn had obviously read into his refusal. 

            “No. We are OK, just... Not tonight.” Liam ran a hand across his face, trying to swipe away some of his bone-deep exhaustion. Zayn squinted, eyes focused hard on Liam’s face. Liam wondered what he saw. 

            “Tomorrow then, captain.” Zayn said and Liam nodded, forcing up a smile for Zayn. The effort must have looked pathetic, based on Zayn’s minuscule recoil, but Zayn’s eyes were soft as he waved Liam away with a lofty sweep of his hand. Liam knew his attempt was appreciated and understood.  He walked out of SHIELD feeling a little less of a failure. 

            A little.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gosh, guys! Thank you for all the support on the first chapter! Now I really, really hope the rest of this stupid thing lives up to expectations!  
> Let me know if any of it makes sense!  
> Thanks!!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, erm, this is where this silly thing shoots far, far, away from movie canon into my own little weird plot. I hope it works ok? I just really wanted more Harry, to be perfectly honest.

CHAPTER 3

 

            Liam trudged up the stairs of his building, feet heavy on the steps. The elevator dinged cheerfully as it opened on the floor below him, but Liam ignored it. The slow walk up to his sixth floor apartment gave him time to think.

            Life was different in this post-war world. SHIELD had endless missions for Liam to do, always of the utmost of importance, all with the weight of freedom caught in the balance - or so they said. Yet Liam was starting to realize he was not sure who he was fighting against. The last mission had seemed so simple, and Liam had been happy for it. No matter of politics or loyalties, to hold people against their will was fundamentally wrong.  Leading the hostages out of the camp last night, Liam had felt for the first time in a long time like he had been doing exactly the right thing. That hasn’t lasted. It seemed that SHIELD always had a spin, an ulterior motive no one saw fit to inform Liam of.  And, maybe, when he had been in charge of the Howling Commandos, Liam had been spoiled. To be in charge of his own fate, to make his own choices with no one holding information from him was a gift not many soldiers were given. Now, Liam could feel the chafe of its loss. He loved the thought of fighting for his country; he didn't like the idea of being a pawn in battle when no one would tell him who he was fighting, either for or against. 

            “Looks like you are having heavy thoughts there.” Liam glanced up to see his neighbor peering at him from across the hall, curly head cocked to the side.

            “Evening, Harry.” Liam forced a tired smile onto his face, the least he could do for his laid-back neighbor. Since he had moved in, Harry had never failed to greet him with a sweet smile and a friendly word. The unpretentious kindness made Liam feel overly large and awkward, but he always did his best to return Harry’s gestures. Today though his smile must have been less than effective, for Harry’s smiled morphed into a frown and he took a step closer.

            “What’s going on, Liam? You look like your dog died.” Harry’s eyes widened, his tongue tripping over his words as he rushed to say, “Your dog didn’t actually die, did it? I am really sorry, that was completely insensitive. Are you…” Liam shook his head, a more natural smile slipping onto his face without his permission.

            “Its nothing like that, I don’t even have a dog. Just…” Liam paused, trying to think of a way of simplifying the mess in his brain. “A bad day at the office.”

            “Ah,” Harry nodded slowly, face twisted with sympathy. “Those days suck. Well, if you ever want to complain about it over a cup of coffee, I am a great listener.” He wrinkled his brow, “Not a good story teller, people tell me, but a good listener.” Harry bobbed his head languorously, as though trying to lend credibility to his own claim. And Liam found himself tempted. Harry’s deep, indolent voice was comforting; Liam loved, at the end of demanding missions, to listen to him singing from across the hall. He had just been longing for a friend. Though having his old friends back was a painful impossibility, maybe Harry could be a friend, someone who had nothing to do with SHIELD, or fighting, or missions. Instead of complaining, maybe he could get Harry to tell him a story. Even if he was as bad a storyteller as he said, it would have nothing to do with trying to figure out the right thing to do when your bosses valued information over lives.

But Liam was tired. His bones ached, and his mind ached and he didn’t want to think or put up the front of being a normal person. He didn’t want to make Harry deal with the burden of his heavy thoughts and inability to deal with the world he had woken up in.

            “I am too tired tonight, but maybe another time?” He said with honest regret.

“Just as well,” Harry said agreeably, “I was trying to get out of doing my laundry anyway.” He reached behind his door, and pulled out an oversized laundry hamper, piled high with dirty clothes. Liam raised his eyebrows.

            “It looks like you have been putting it off for long enough.” Liam heard Harry giggle, though his face was now hidden from view by the mountain of clothes.

            “Tell me about it. Work just sometimes takes more out of me than I can handle – but you know all about that! Maybe we can go for that cup of coffee tomorrow?” Liam murmured his assent and pushed himself closer to the wall, trying to allow Harry more space to pass him. Not that it did much good. Harry seemed to have underestimated the size of his basket, rammed it into the wall and almost tripped down the stairs.

            “I’m ok!” His muffled voice cawed cheerfully from behind the mound of clothes. Liam stared, nonplussed, as Harry maneuvered himself down each stair, managing to knock his knees on the bannister and ram his basket twice into the wall before disappearing from view. Liam shook his head, absently caressing the worn photo folded in his back pocket. Maybe tomorrow, he could try to make a friend. Louis would be proud of him for that. Smiling fondly, before entering the lonely dark of his apartment.

 

* * *

 

            Paperwork. Liam was generally impressed at the progress his country had made in the time he had been asleep; fighting was smoother, communication faster, and even transport more streamlined. But the paperwork. Liam could barely handle all the paperwork SHIELD required. There was a form for every request, and the steep requirements for the post mission reports meant Liam spent hours checking over and over again to made sure he had included all the events. Writing and spelling had truly never been his strong points. It was just his luck that so much of his job depended on that now.

            “Come. Now. ” Liam jumped, and spun around in his chair. Zayn was standing behind him. He raised a single eyebrow, but gave no other reaction to Liam’s shock at his appearance.

            “What’s going on?” Liam asked.

            “Agent 13 has gone missing. Cowell has activated all available agents to locate him. That means us, Captain.” Liam scrambled up to follow Zayn without protest. Anything to avoid paperwork

 

* * *

                       

            The small boardroom was almost empty when Liam followed Zayn in, but Liam recognized most of the faces around the table as SHIELD’s more experienced operatives. Liam didn’t know who Agent 13 was, but based on the team being assembled for his rescue, he was an important man.

            Zayn and Liam took their seats at the far end of the table as Commander Cowell entered the room. All conversation ceased as Cowell stood at the front of the room, hands planted on the table. He slowly surveyed everyone in the room, and began the briefing.

            “Agent 13, one of our head electrical engineers, failed to appear in the lab yesterday for his scheduled shift. We know he is nowhere on the SHIELD premises, nor is he at his home.” Cowell said as his assistant quickly handed each person a confidential briefing folder, “Our team is currently recovering footage from the security cameras of his housing complex. Preliminary reports do indicate that Agent 13 has been taken against his will.” Liam nodded absently along to Cowell’s words as he opened his folder. And blinked. He glanced to his side, eying Zayn for any hint of a reaction or an explanation, but the other man was regarding his own folder with no sign of confusion. There was something wrong with Liam’s folder. There was no possible way the picture of Agent 13 was correct. Because Liam didn’t know Agent 13. But he knew the man in the picture, would recognize the lazy eyes and uncontrolled curls. He stared at the picture of Harry for a moment, but it failed to make sense.

            “Wait.” Liam said, ignoring Cowell’s indignant look at his interruption. He plucked Harry’s picture out of his file, and turned it towards Cowell. “This is Harry. My neighbor, Harry. He doesn’t work for SHIELD.” Liam saw Zayn duck his head, refusing to meet Liam’s perplexed eyes. Cowell had no such compunction.

            “Actually, Harry is an Agent of SHIELD; he was installed as your neighbor to keep an eye on you.” Cowell said evenly, a barest hint of a smile turning his lips.

            “My neighbor is a plant?” Liam echoed distantly, testing the words out to see if they made sense. They didn’t. “Harry is an agent? Harry has a _gun_?” Liam wasn’t sure which point was less believable.

            “Of course. He is a highly trained operative.”

            “He trips going up the stairs.” Liam said faintly, staring askance at the picture of Harry, dressed sharply in the official SHIELD uniform. It was making his head hurt.

            “This is hardly the thing to be focused on, Payne.” Cowell said, his slight smile from earlier gone as though it had never been, his lips now turned down in harsh frown, "Styles is missing, and we need to find him.”

 

* * *

            The security feed from the entrance to Liam’s apartment building was grainy and shot with static. Liam watched as figures entered and exited the familiar building, movements slightly choppy and fragmented from the video delay.

            “Upgrade those now.” Cowell said tightly, eyes focused on the footage. Standing at Cowell’s shoulder, Liam saw Cowell’s hands tighten into fists as Harry’s bobbing figure came into view on the screen. He watched as Harry approached the doors to the building, appearing to be humming to himself. Even knowing Harry’s history, even having read his list of skills and accomplishments, Liam found himself waiting for someone to tell him this was all a mistake. There was no way Harry was anything more than the clumsy baker Liam had believed him to be.

            Liam’s eyes widened as something he had assumed to be a shadow detached itself from the wall and leapt at Harry. Liam felt his entire perception of Harry flip as he watched, numbly impressed as Harry fell into a seamless crouch, ducking his attacker’s arms and striking at his knees with a flick of his feet. The motion was blurry on the screen but Liam could tell that Harry, as he jumped back to his feet, had pulled knife from somewhere. Harry was carefully circling the shadow man, dancing out of reach. Liam felt his own breath catch as, with a sudden lunge, Harry leapt on the shadow man, burying the knife into his forearm.

            “Good man.” Liam whispered under his breath. Seeing Harry’s obvious defensive competency was easing some of Liam’s worry. He had taken down this attacker with ease... Liam squinted his eyes in confusion. Stab wounds to the arms were painful and generally debilitating. But, before Liam’s eyes, the shadow man reached over with his other arm, plucked the knife out of his flesh like it was nothing and threw it away. On the screen, Harry obviously shared Liam’s shock. He was frozen with his arm raised, staring at his knife lying impotent on the ground. Liam flinched as the shadow man raised his supposedly wounded arm; it glinted oddly in the artificial light of the entranceway. He struck Harry on the side of the head. Liam forced himself to watch as Harry crumbled to the ground. The shadow man grabbed him, tossing Harry over his shoulder as though he were a child, and carried him out of the camera’s view.

            The entire sequence had taken maybe a minute. Liam found himself staring at the video feed, now displaying a calm, pleasant evening. If not for the abandoned knife lying barely visible under the bushes, there was no evidence of what had just occurred.

            “I know who that was.” Liam tore his gaze away from the uncomfortably familiar entranceway, and turned to face Zayn. The other man’s gaze was still locked on the screen.

            “Zayn.” Liam knew better than to touch his partner, but Zayn seemed lost in thought. He was motionless; Liam wasn’t sure he was breathing.

            “Even among assassins there are myths, and urban legends of sorts.” Zayn said, his words slow and measured, “The Winter Soldier is one of the less known ones; a man with no name and no history. But people know him by his bionic arm. People have been whispering about him for almost fifty year.”

            “So he’s a ghost?” Liam asked. There was no way the man on the screen had been fifty years old. But Zayn shook his head.

            “I met him once. We both walked away, but he left me with this souvenir.” Being partners meant Liam had seen Zayn in various stages of undress. He knew the tattoos that dotted Zayn’s chest and back. He also knew of the scar, the uneven, angry welt curving along Zayn’s left hip. The scar Zayn’s hand was now resting gently against, almost as if he were remembering the pain. Liam swallowed thickly. Zayn calmly met Liam’s eyes, and Liam could see the reflection of his own thoughts there. Zayn was a fighter, trained with a skill set few people in the world possessed. If this man had bested him…

            “If Harry was kidnapped by the Winter Soldier, we have to find him fast.”

 

* * *

 

            “Like most agents, Harry has a tracking chip imbedded in his forearm, especially for situations like these. He wasn’t active in the field though, so his chip was dormant. Remote access took a little while, but we managed to activate the signal.” The woman was speaking fast into her computer screen, her swift fingers echoed by the images projected on the overhead screen. Cowell was leaning back in his chair, carefully regarding the flurry of diagrams and maps. Their meaning was lost on Liam, but he hoped they made sense to Cowell.

            “But where exactly is he?” Cowell interrupted the woman’s monologue on the difficulties of sub dermal trackers. She blinked at Cowell for a moment before pressing one more button; a map popped up on the screen.

            “He appears to be on a small ship off the coast of Morocco.”

            “Ok.” Cowell leaned forward, clapping his hands together. “Get me confirmed coordinates. I want a full tactical team ready to deploy in three hours- Captain Payne, I want…” Cowell’s orders were cut short as the boardroom doors opened and Director Dirksen swept into the room. Cowell quickly stood; Liam wasn’t sure of it was in deference to the presence of a superior officer, or in protest of the interruption. Dirksen cleared his throat, and met Cowell’s hard gaze easily.

            “I am sorry to interrupt, gentlemen, but your mission has now become a matter of greater importance, necessitating my involvement. Its aim has officially changed; the World Security Council has opted not to rescue Agent 13.” Liam blinked. And blinked again. He glanced around the room, taking in the faces of his coworkers. Their expressions ranged from the openmouthed shock Liam felt himself, to utter acceptance.

            “What?” Liam heard himself say.

            “The knowledge Styles is privy to is too sensitive to risk him being compromised.” Dirkson said, “We found his location in good time; if the area is neutralized quickly, the risk of the information leak may be mitigated.” Liam felt a twist in his gut. That didn’t sound like anything good.

            “What do you mean by neutralized?” He asked quietly when no one else in the room protested. Dirkson ignored his question, and turned to look at an agent sitting across from Liam.

            “Agent Cromwell. You are to program an A64 missile, trained on those coordinates, to be fired at 0600 hours. The goal is total destruction.” Liam had been expecting Dirksen to say something like that.  But to hear it stated so callously, as though it was a discussion of the weather, not a life… Liam felt sick.

            “Wait. This is an Agent we are talking about. A friend.” He said, glancing frantically around the table, searching for support from his coworkers. None would meet his gaze; even Zayn was staring with single-minded purpose at his phone. Dirksen signed loudly, as though Liam’s protests were a personal affront.

            “The choice has been taken out of my hands, Captain. You have the luxury of indignation. We have too much responsibility for that. Agent Styles’ sacrifice will be honored.” Liam shook his head, staring hard at the table in front of him. He didn’t trust himself to look at Dirksen

            “Sacrifice implies a willingness.” Liam bit out, sharpening each word, “Harry never agreed to die you this.”

            “Captain Payne.” Dirksen said sharply, “Thank you for your input. As your extraction skills are no longer necessary, you may leave.” The handles of Liam’s chair were crumbling as he clenched his hands on the armrests. He slowly raised his gaze to need Dirksen’s eyes, and did nothing to hide the revulsion he felt. Had he been less irate, he might have felt a slice of gratification at the small step back Dirksen took under the weight of Liam’s glare. But Dirksen recovered almost before be moved, and gestured towards the door

            “That is not a request, Captain; consider it an order.”

            Liam stood, his steel backed chair crumbling under the force of his shove. He stalked out of the room, not meeting the eyes of any of its inhabitants. Cowards, all of them cowards.

            The automatic doors opened smoothly for him, which did nothing to cool his ire. He wanted to slam things; he wanted to punch things; he wanted something to expel the helpless fury he could feel building in his gut. He lurched down the hallways, paying no heed to the people in his path, or which way he turned. His mind was not on his movements, but still in the boardroom and on the curly head of his neighbor.

            Liam came to a stop, the hallways branching off around him. He didn’t know where to go. He turned slowly around in a circle, hands coming up to clench tightly in his hair. Around him, SHIELD personnel milled about, entirely ignorant to the choices their bosses felt comfortable making. They had no idea their lives were worth nothing at all, and the country they fought for would sacrifice them in a moment. Oh God, what was this place?

            Liam couldn’t do this. He couldn’t do _nothing_. Harry was his friend, or as close as he had these days. Liam lowered his hands from his hair and dug his palms into his eye sockets. He needed to get to the Morocco. What had the satellite said? There were twenty men there with Harry? Liam could do that. He could…

            A hand touched lightly on his forearm. Liam dropped his hands from his face, and fell automatically into fighting stance. He was not in the mood for being social. Zayn was standing two feet away, arms crossed lightly, and his goddamn eyebrow cocked.

            “Those people in there are some of the most powerful in the world, and you just mouthed off to them. You don’t think before you speak, do you?” Liam felt his shoulders inch down. He might not understand Zayn, or know what motivated him, but he trusted Zayn to at least listen.

            “No,” Liam said wearily, “Thinking has never really been my style.” Zayn nodded slowly.

            “I am starting to see that.” Liam watched Zayn’s eye dart around, glancing furtively down the hallways. There was no one there; the people previously around Liam must have picked up on the tension and wisely given Liam a wide berth. Zayn took a step closer to Liam.

            “You know they will have bombed the whole thing by the time you find a way of getting there.” Liam swallowed, fighting the helpless ache that was building in his chest. SHIELD was known for its quick action; it was a point of pride. Harry’s existence had been deemed a security threat. The missile would probably be armed before he managed to make it home. But the thought of doing nothing… Liam drew a sharp breath in through his nose, and released it in a steady exhale. He met Zayn’s gaze steadily.   

            “I don’t care.” Liam said. “I have to try.” He glanced up at the SHIELD offices, and tried to remember what he had thought the first time he had seen them. The calm he had felt that such powerful organizations existed, simply to protect the world.

            “I joined SHIELD because I thought we were making a difference,” He murmured, “and were making the world safer. But if they are doing that at the expense of innocent peoples lives…” He looked back at Zayn, who hadn’t moved but to narrow his eyes. Liam gestured to the other man, palms out. He didn’t expect Zayn to understand, but he had to try.

            During the war, things had been simple. There was a clear enemy and every move Liam had made was aimed at countering it. There had been a right and a wrong, and Liam had known which side he had been on. He wasn’t sure he knew anymore. The world had become complicated while he had slept. But sometimes, the right course of action was clear.

            “If they think Harry is expendable, I can’t stay. Zayn, I can’t do that. I won’t.” Liam let his arms fall to his side, and squared his shoulders. Harry was a good man, and he deserved to come home. Liam owed him that. He didn’t think Zayn would fight him, but he didn’t expect Zayn to… to smile?

            “Good answer.” Zayn said, walking up to Liam, grabbing his arm and pulling him in the direction of the garages. Liam flinched a little as he felt Zayn’s long fingers slip into his pant’s pocket, leaving something behind as they withdrew.

            “Those are the coordinates to the ship Harry is on.” Zayn whispered rapidly, “I managed to use my phone to scramble their satellite signal before I left. Should take them about eight hours to undo I mess I made, and another few to find the ship again, especially with Cowell running interference. Can you work with that?” Liam stared at Zayn, unable to control his jaw which had fallen open the moment Zayn had started to speak. He wasn’t even fighting Zayn’s lead, simply letting the other man direct him down the corridor.

            “Yeah,’ He finally sputtered, realizing Zayn’s raised eyebrows were, this time, begging for a response. He cleared this throat and said again, stronger, “Yeah I can. Wait. Cowell is running interference?” Zayn rolled his eyes.

            “Of course he is, man loves Harry. He isn’t about to let Dirksen bomb him. Now focus on the mission, Payne.”

            “Right,’ Liam nodded, mind starting to whir, “Now, we just need to find transport to the middle of the Atlantic Ocean. Commercial airlines may be the safest, if not the quickest optio… What?” Zayn was staring at him unblinking. Liam stared back, eye darting around Zayn’s face, looking for some clue as to the meaning of the incredulous look. They did need transport, didn’t they? Zayn finally broke the standoff, rolling his entire head with a groan.

            “God, it’s a good thing you have me around,” He muttered, “ _Stealing_ planes is the safest option, and I will handle that. But you,” He poked Liam in the middle of the chest, “might want to recruit your flying friend. We are going to need all the help we can get.” Liam stopped short. Now the conversation had lost all basis in reality.

            “My. What? I don’t have friends.” He sputtered at Zayn’s back. The friend part at least made some sense. But flying? People didn’t flying.

            “Yes you do.” Zayn called back, having not paused his stride. Liam shook his head, and ran to catch up. This was going to be interesting.

 

* * *

  

            “But… but…” Liam’s mouth was hanging open, his eyes wide. “You are a pilot.” He said heavily, eyebrows almost to his hairline. Niall laughed merrily at the utter confusion on the Captain’s face.

            “No,” He corrected jovially, “I said I _flew_. You assumed, Mr. Captain, and you know what that’s does!” Liam’s confusion appeared to deepen, something Niall had not thought possible.

            “Um. No?” He asked, as though unsure of his own lack of knowledge.

            “It makes an ass…” Niall trailed off, searching Liam’s eyes for any dawning comprehension. There was none. “You know what,” He said quickly, “Never mind.” He met Zayn’s amused eyes in the rear view mirror, and flashed him an enthusiastic thumbs up. Zayn. Niall now knew the name of Liam’s mysterious partner. And! Had heard him speak! When the two had shown up at his doorway, and laid out their plan, Niall had been sure at first that it had all been a practical joke. But Captain England didn’t seem the type to joke. Judging by the unequivocally deadly look on Zayn’s face when Niall had outright asked if they were serious, pranks weren’t big in his books either. Niall shoved his hands under his thighs, hoping neither of the other men had seen the tremors in his fingers. Niall was so excited he could taste it, almost feel the biting wind in his face again. He was going to _fly_ again. He was in a car, sitting beside Captain England with the Black Widower driving. He pinched himself hard on the thigh, but no, still awake.

            “Thanks again for rescuing my wings, mate.” Niall said, leaning forward, clapping a hearty drum line on Zayn’s back. He settled back with a contented sigh, and met Liam’s wide-eyed stare. Niall stared back, mystified, before turning to meet Zayn’s bemused gaze in the mirror. Oh, he thought. Maybe hitting a world-class assassin on the back barely an hour after formally meeting him wasn’t the best idea. Niall gave the idea of embarrassment a moment’s consideration before mentally shrugging. Better they all get used to Niall’s easy affection now, rather than be shocked by it later.

            Zayn banked the car hard to the left, turning onto a heavily forested road Niall hadn’t even seen until they were on it. The sudden change of momentum sent Niall almost tumbling into Liam before he managed to catch himself against the center console. Almost before Zayn had turned, Liam had braced himself against the side of the car with a quick motion that spoke of experience. Niall made a mental note to always wear his seatbelt when travelling with these two.

            Niall was a quick study, and had his hands steady on the seat in front of him, so when Zayn pulled the car to a screeched halt, he only almost flew off his seat.

            Zayn was out of the car before Niall could catch his breathe, Liam barely a moment behind him. Niall scrambled after them, giving a halfhearted grumble about overly excited super heroes. The grumble had barely taken shape before it melted into a grin. Niall was hanging out with HEROES.

            By the time Niall rounded the car, Zayn was nowhere to be seen. Liam was standing ten feet away, his brow heavily furrowed. Niall was starting to think that was just how his face was at rest. Niall came to a stop next to Liam, and surveyed the scene. They were in the middle of a clearing. The tree line was a hundred meters or so away, the long grass rippling gently in the wind. It was very pretty. But not as pretty as the quinjet resting incongruously in the middle of the field.  

            “First Niall’s wings…” Liam said almost to himself. Niall was rather impressed that Liam managed to say that without stumbling or a shred of skepticism. But then, he had been frozen for fifty years. Things must all be a little strange to him. “First, Niall’s wings,” Liam repeated, louder, “and now a quinjet? Zayn, how are you getting these things?”

            One of the front panels of the jet opened, and Zayn’s dark head popped out.

            “Don’t ask questions you don’t want answers to, Cap.” He called out. Liam shook his head, but seemingly took his advice and asked no more questions. He looked over at Niall, eyebrows raised in question. Niall smiled giddily back, and they walked towards the quinjet together. Niall refused to be embarrassed about the skip in his step. He had his wings and he was on a rescue mission with two heroes; yes, life was good.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Criticisms and comments are adored!  
> Thanks for reading!  
> Cheers!


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CONTENT WARNING  
> This chapter has some graphic descriptions of torture, and a lot of implied torture. Most of it happens off screen, but the people who took Harry are just not very nice.

CHAPTER 4

 

            Harry pulled once at the cuffs until he could feel his scabs scrape and reopen. The metal links were tight, holding his wrists to the wall above his head. He could barely stand, much less move. Harry grunted, yanking again at the cuffs even as it sent pain jittering down both his arms. He allowed himself a single, quiet whimper and laid his head against the wall. It was hard, but cool enough to be almost soothing.

            Harry had so not signed up for this. He was an engineer. He designed mining equipment, and fixed all the locator technology the field agents managed to break with alarming frequency. Engineers weren’t supposed to get kidnapped.

            “You know, this whole thing would be more pleasant if you would talk back to me.” Harry said, glancing at the corner of his cell. His companion didn’t deign to acknowledge his words, just continued staring at the wall next to Harry.

            It was the same man who had grabbed him outside his house, who had brought him to this god-awful place. Harry glared at the man, searching for some sign of bruises or discomfort at least. Harry thought he had gotten in at least a few good hits - his knuckles sure ached as if he had. And yet, the man didn't even have the decency to look a little beat up. This was why Harry didn't do fieldwork - hurting people took too much effort and usually backfired.  Ok, and he had tripped and almost fallen off the top of a building on a covert mission, but it was mostly the hurting people thing.  

            “You could at least pretend I managed to hurt you.” Harry said, more to stave off the silence than with any hope for a reply, “I thought I was pretty good with the knife. I mean, what were the chances you would have a mechanical arm? If I had stabbed you in the other arm, I might have gotten away! Right? Oh, come on. Give me something here." The guard didn't give any reaction that he had heard Harry's voice.

            Harry might not personally like violence, but he wouldn't mind punching his guard in the nose. Or maybe, Harry revised as he flexed his cracked knuckles, hit him with a really big circuit board. The man had brought him here, tied him up, and been sitting next to him ever since. And he hadn't said a single word. Harry leaned his head back against the wall behind him, and turned his eyes to the ceiling.  He took a deep breath and let his eyes slide shut for a moment as he tried to run through the hostage protocols that had been drilled into him when he had first joined SHIELD. Bindings were secure - painfully so. He couldn't even reach his pockets, much less check if they had left anything useful on him. No one had asked anything of him so he couldn't negotiate or even be belligerent. 

            "SHIELD may not be the most upstanding organization, but I don’t think they go around attacking people and holding them against their will." If his kidnapper wasn't going to start the negations, Harry would have to set the tone.  Maybe if he talked enough, the man wouldn't notice that his fingers had stared shaking. “Well, maybe they do, but never without reason. And there is no reason to kidnap me. It's entirely rude. You have to know this is not right. I mean, not only is it a violation of civil liberty, I am pretty sure we are not in England anymore, so this is now an international affair, which is …” Harry trailed off, his voice shakier than he planned. Oh. God. He probably wasn't even in his own country right now. The last time Harry had been out of the country was two years ago, when he had spent Christmas in Majorca with his family. Harry really, really wanted to be at the beach.

            He forced himself to take a deep breath but he stuttered on the exhale, unable to control the slight spasm of his lungs. Maybe talking all this out had been a bad idea. The tremor in his fingers hadn't stopped, had instead progressed down his arms. Harry turned to bury his face in his inner arm, breathes a quick staccato against the skin.  “I don’t like it here.” Harry whispered. If his guard wasn't going to acknowledge his debate, Harry could allow himself this small weakness. 

            He would rather not have allowed the high-pitched squeak that escaped his mouth when a water bottle was shoved under his nose. He recoiled sharply from the sudden plastic intrusion, gasping again when the motion jarred his already sore wrists. He blinked at the bottle, and slowly let his eyes follow the bottle to the hand, up the arm to finally meet the blank eyes of his silent and previously motionless captor.  Harry opened his mouth, but his move to speak was interrupted when the guard took advantage and tipped the bottle, pouring water into Harry's mouth. Harry sputtered at the unexpected hydration, but fought his instinct to cough. The soothing water felt too heavenly on his throat to waste on something as trivial as a clear airway. Once the mouthful was gone, Harry carefully opened his mouth again and the soldier poured in another, more civilized sip. The guard took a step back, the now empty bottle held delicately in his metallic fingers. Harry glanced between the man's face and his intimidatingly strong hand. The man hadn't moved before, and now Harry didn't know what to expect. He certainly didn't expect the man to speak. 

            "No one likes it here." The soldier said, before turning smoothly and returning silently to his perch.

 

* * *

 

            Harry's throat has dry again, but somehow he didn't mind. He had spent the last hour trying to get his guard to speak again. He had gone through his life story, his mum's life story, some of the less classified projects he had been on, and was now resorting to the few jokes he could remember.

            “What did Zero say to Eight? Nice belt! Eh? Eh? You get it?” Though the guard didn't speak, he had softened. Harry was positive he hadn't imagined the quick smirk the guard flashed; Harry chose to believe it was a smile at his joke, not Harry himself. 

            Harry was just gearing up for his giraffe joke when the door opened.  Harry felt his neck crack as he swung his head towards the noise. Three more guards carrying worryingly large guns entered the room, followed by a suited man. He wasn't tall, but his thin, wiry build made him seem so. His thin grey hair was carefully gelled against his head, his face gently lined with age. But for the decidedly expensive cut of his suit, the man appeared painfully average. 

            The man's gaze went straight to Harry, a smile stretching his thin lips when he saw Harry staring back. 

            "Hello Harry. I am Mr. Howard."

            "Hi." Harry replied, proud of how much his voice didn't shake.  The man continued to smile benevolently, before flicking a quick glance at his guards, and nodding. The three guards moved towards Harry seamlessly. Two grabbed his cuffed arms, cutting off movement before it occurred to Harry to make any. The third unlocked the cuffs from the wall. The guards yanked his arms to his sides and Harry couldn't contain his yelp of alarm.  The muscles in his arms seized at the shock of movement after so many hours held immobile. But the guards did not give Harry the luxury of accommodation. There was no pause as they dragged him towards Mr. Howard. 

            There was now a chair sitting prominently in the middle of the room. Harry’s own soldier was now standing behind Mr. Howard, back straight, hands at his sides and eyes fixed firmly on the far wall. Though Harry craned his neck, trying to force his way into the soldier’s line of vision, he wouldn't look at Harry. 

            The guards holding Harry pushed him roughly into the chair, the third flitting quickly around, fastening Harry's wrists and ankles to the chair. Harry pulled instinctively against the bonds, but the thick wooden frame gave nothing back. Harry really didn't like where this was going. 

            "Wait, wait, wait" Harry said, pulling again at the cuffs, ignoring the sharp bite of metal into skin.  “Aren’t you supposed to explain something here? Like what you want?” Even as Harry spoke, Howard pulled two thin rods from his back pocket. With quick, almost mindless motions he snapped the two together. 

            “I would love to, Mr. Styles. I find explanations make everything a little smoother. But time is not on my side today, so I going to have to skip that stage. Please do forgive my impatience.” He punctuated his words with a lazy swish of the thin rod. Harry didn't know whether to look to the man or the hand. With a flick of Howard’s thumb, the rod crackled to life. An electric current flashed blue at the top end of the rod. Harry pushed himself back in the chair, an almost involuntary movement, anything to put distance between him and the rod. He was sure Mr. Howard could see his chest fluttering, shaken by the thundering of his heartbeat. Harry had thought his throat was dry before, but now his tongue was sticking to the top of his mouth, each rapid breathe scrabbling unwillingly from his dry throat. 

            "You haven’t asked me anything." Harry said again, his voice pitched high in panic. The guards were cutting his shirt away, but Harry barely noticed the rush of cold air against his bare chest, his mind focused with painfully intensity on the blue current as Mr. Howard lazily waved the rod around. 

            "You wouldn’t answer." The man said. "So this is my plan. I am going to hurt you. I am sorry about that, but it is unavoidable. And then I will ask you questions you probably will not answer. So I will hurt you again. You may answer my questions this time, but I don’t think I will believe you. So I will hurt you once more. And I will leave you in pain, to think about the pain, knowing it will go on and on and on. And when I come back, and ask you one more time, maybe you will answer. That I am not sure of. But I look forward to finding out.”

            "I don’t understand." Harry said, his tongue was heavy and awkward in his mouth; he was barely able to get the words out. “I’m just an engineer.” The man smiled gently, walked up to Harry and lifted his chin with a single finger.

            "Ah, my dear boy. " he crooned, pressing the rod to Harry’s chest, "No one in SHIELD is just an engineer."

 

* * *

 

            Harry let his chin rest on his heaving chest, his throat raw with the scream they had finally ripped from his unwilling mouth. He saw Mr. Howard’s shiny shoes enter his vision, and couldn’t help his shoulders from tensing with the anticipation of pain.

            “Now, now, Harry,” Mr. Howard clucked, as though Harry’s reaction was somehow inappropriate, “I do think that is all for now.” He tapped Harry with the damned rod, chuckling as Harry flinched violently away. The rod was off. “Take care, Harry. I will be back in an hour. Do think about our conversations.” If Harry had the energy, he would have lifted his head to glare at the man, but his muscles refused to listen. He forced himself to be content with cursing Howard in the privacy of his own mind.

            “You.” Howard barked out, voice harsher than it had ever been with Harry, “Stay. Make sure he doesn’t fall asleep.” Harry forced his neck to move a minute inch, just to confirm Howard was talked to Harry’s own guard. He listened for the echo of footsteps to confirm the exit of the suited man and his guards before allowing some of the tension to ease from aching shoulders.

            “Why do you help them?” He whimpered. He was too lost in his own pain to be positive, but he thought he felt a gentle press of metal fingers against his neck but it was gone before he could be sure.

 

* * *

 

            The second round was longer than the first. This time, they hadn’t stopped with Harry’s first scream, had instead pushed the power on the rod higher. Harry’s muscles were shaking, his throat raw to the point he could taste blood in the back of his mouth. His arms, chest and back were dotted with burns, their tiny size belying the amount of pain generated by their creation.

            At first, Harry was sure the whimper was him; every other sound in the damned room seemed to come from his mouth. But at the sound, Mr. Howard stopped his methodical progress. Harry glanced around the room with watery eyes and found everyone was staring at his metal-armed guard.

            “Come here, Soldier.” The Soldier slowly approached Howards. When he reached his side, the suited man gestured to the ground. Without protest, the Soldier eased gracefully to his knees, kneeling before Mr. Howard. Howard fiddled with his rod, thumbing the power dial up and down. Harry watched, unable to feel more than distantly afraid of what was to come. Mr. Howard noticed him watching, and stared back. He held Harry’s gaze as he thumbed the dial to its highest setting and dug the rod into the kneeling soldier’s neck. The soldier arched, groaning through gritted teeth but said nothing, and made no attempt to move away. Harry felt his mouth fall open, unable to look away from the implausible display before him.

            “What are you doing?” He asked, his voice cracking, “He is your own man! Stop hurting him!”

            “Yes, he is mine, but for some reason he seems upset that I am hurting you. I find that very odd, but he utterly expendable.” Howard said, his voice hard and cold, for the first time sounding as dangerous as Harry knew him to be. “You, I rather need to be able to talk, but I can kill him without a worry. I can make it hurt, and I can make you watch. Are you as fond of him as he strangely seems to be of you?” He jammed the rod in again, this time against the soldier’s jugular vein. Harry watched in horror as the muscles in the soldier’s neck corded and spasmed, though his face was hidden by a curtain of hair. “And after he is dead,’ Howard continued, “I can have my men go out, and come back with civilian. A little child perhaps? And you will watch as he or she dies screaming, without any idea of why they had to die. But you will know that it is all your fault.” Howard moved away from the soldier, his rod tapping out an easy rhythm against his hip. Harry watched his approach, eyes burning but unable the blink. His pulse was thundering in his ears, its rush blocking out almost all other sound. Howard leaned in close until all Harry could smell was his cloying cologne.

            “I told you, Harry, time is not on my side. I have until 5 o’clock this morning for you to tell me everything I need; I don’t have the luxury to be gentle with you.” He placed his hands on the armrests of Harry’s chair. Though Harry had never been able to move much, Howard was now in his face, all he could see and smell was Howard. Harry pulled desperately on his cuffs, wanting to bury his face in his hands, to clap his hands over his ears, anything to get away. But he couldn’t.

            “I need the information;’ Howard continued, “You get to decide how many people have to die in the process. If you won’t tell me about all your projects, maybe we shall start small. I know you work with the remote access for industrial mining equipment. Lets chat about that. But understand. We will chat.” He held Harry’s gaze unblinking, and Harry knew Howard was not making idle threats. Harry blinked rapidly, wishing with all his might that his hands were loose, if only so he would swipe at the hot tears burning in his eyes.

            “Fine.” He said shakily, pressing his lips firmly together, trying to hide the tremors making his teeth rattle.

            “Good choice.” Howard said with a wide smile. He flicked his hand behind his, gesturing for the soldier to stand. He turned to the other, silent guards. “Take him to his room. I will deal with him in a moment. For now, Harry and I are going to chat.”

 

 

 


	5. Chapter 5

CHAPTER 5

 

            Liam landed silently on the deck of the ship, immediately falling to his hands and knees, shield cupped protectively to his back. He held still for a moment, scanning the deck carefully for any sign of movement. He glanced up, and in the twilight, could barely make out the shape of Niall swooping soundlessly over his head.

            “Safely landed on deck. Can you confirm Harry’s location?”

            “According to the scan, he is in the holding bay of the third level.” Zayn’s voice crackled from his ear bud. “Take the staircase halfway down the starboard side. I will direct you from there.”

            “You get started, Cap,” Niall chimed in. “I am just gonna take care of the watch men here on deck, and I will join you for the fun.”

            “Sounds good.” Liam said. He took one deep breath, and another before leaping from his crouched position into a run. He ran soundlessly down the deck. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a guard strolling by. Liam dove and rolled quickly beneath a side rail, popping up behind the guard. Liam curled one arm tightly around the man’s windpipe, cutting of his air before he could scream, the other arm quickly ripped the weapon from the man’s startled hands. Liam held tight as the struggles weakened, and ceased. Liam lowered the man’s limp form to the ground, and ran on.

            Zayn’s preliminary scan of the ship had showed 23 men on board, including Harry. Niall had claimed the five on the top deck and based on the few muttered curses, muffled cries and distinct lack of gunfire, Liam was pretty sure that part of the mission was a success. Along with the man he had taken down, that left a potential of 16 people between him and Harry. The hope was to get Harry safely out before their presence was noticed.

            Liam reached the stairway door. He paused for a moment. Stairs were a dead end. Once in the door, exits could be shut off. Liam swiped at the thin smear of sweat on his upper lip, and adjusted his mask. 16 men. He could do this.

            Liam opened the door just wide enough to slip inside, easing it shut behind him. The stairs were dark and silent. Liam crept down, one by one, checking each landing for signs of life.

            “There!” Zayn’s voice echoed in ear. “Take that door.” Liam opened the door and found himself face to face with two equally surprised men.

            “Hi!” Liam smiled, and punched the nearest one in the nose. The momentum from his punch spun him into a crouch as the second man opened fire on the place where his head had been. Liam tensed his thighs and leapt to the other side of the hallway, removing his shield in midair and sent it spinning towards the gunman. It caught him full in the stomach, propelling him into the wall where he crumpled, unmoving. The first man stood again, mouth covered in blood from his broken nose, but fists raised. He was standing tall, but his hands were shaking. His eyes were darting wildly between Liam and his crumpled comrade. But Liam had no time for mercy. He lunged at the man, feinting easily to the left and dodging the other man’s flailing punch. A quick elbow to the back of the head, and the man joined his friend in unconsciousness. Liam flexed his fingers, and reached up to adjust his earpiece.

            “Could have done with a warning there.”

            “Sorry.” Zayn crackled quickly back, sounding less than apologetic, “Missed those ones.” Liam shook his head, and leaned down to grab his shield.

            “Where to now?”  Zayn quickly directed him down a corridor, and through a doorway. Liam knew he had found the door before Zayn said the word. The frame was enforced and the walls thicker as though to block out sound, or maybe keep it in.

            “There are five men in there.” Zayn said, “So probably four guys and a Harry. Can you handle that?” Liam didn’t deign to grace Zayn with an answer. Liam took a step back and rolled his shoulders back and forth, loosening them. He took his shield in hand, took a deep breath and placed his hand on the doorknob. And turned. Or tried to. Liam let his shoulders slump as he huffed quietly to himself. Of course it was locked. So much for a controlled entrance. He took three steps back, crouched down and braced his shield against his forearms. Liam gave himself a moment to grin – god, he loved this part- and he was running. The enforced door held for a moment as Liam rammed into it with his entire strength before it buckled and shattered, gifting Liam entrance to the room in a flurry of splinters.

            Liam scanned the room quickly, taking note of Harry cuffed to far right wall. Breathing. To their credit, the four guards recovered from their shock quickly. Liam threw his shield, sent it ricocheting off the left wall, taking one guard down with a cracking blow to the ribs. Liam caught the shield on its rebound, bringing it up to deflect a gunshot back at its sender.

            He swung his shield like an ax, clipping a third man under the chin, and following up the blow with a punch to the sternum. The man went flying, hit the wall and fell. He did not rise. The last man rushed at him with a cry, which Liam silenced with a single blow to the jaw.

            Liam heard the sound of footsteps in the hallway. He spun, falling into a crouch. He grabbed his shield in hand and was about to let it fly at the newcomer when Niall bounded into the room. Liam managed to catch his shield with the tip of his fingers. Niall noticed the motion and took a half step back, hands raised in supplication.

            “Woah there! Don’t take out the back up.” Liam stood, dusting himself off.

            “You are hardly back up, Horan. You missed all the action.”

            “Yeah,” Niall muttered, scanning the room slowly. Liam followed his gaze, taking in the obliterated door, smashed-in walls and moaning guards, “I can see that.” Niall said before turning to Liam with a quick grin, “Subtle, you are not, Captain.”

            “Um…” The quiet noise quickly reminded Liam of their purpose. He turned and rushed to Harry. The man was staring at him with wide eyes, small tremors making his shoulders shake but appearing for the most part rather composed.

            “Heya, neighbor.” Liam said softly, quickly ripping the cuffs off the wall and lowering Harry’s arms to his sides with a gentle grip on his wrists.

            “Hi, Liam.” Harry croaked, offering up a watery smile. Liam squeezed Harry’s wrists softly, before taking a step back. His eyes darkened as he took in the bruises and burn marks dotting Harry’s pale, naked chest, to the thick line of barely sealed scabs ringing his wrists.

            “You want to get out of here?” He asked quietly, wishing the men on the floor would try to stand again, simply so he could beat them down once more.

            “Yeah,” Harry exhaled shakily, “Yeah. I really do.” Liam gestured Niall forward, so they could escort Harry out together.

            A faint gust of air was all the warning Liam got.  It was too late to turn around and face the threat, but he instinctively brought his shield up in time to hear the ping of metal on metal, and deflect the knife that had been aimed at his head.

            “Cover Harry!” Liam yelled, twisting to face the oncoming threat. A man was standing in the doorway, blocking their retreat. He was dressed all in black, his outfit tight and streamlined, perfect for quick movements. His posture was loose with the promise of violence. His face was covered by a black mask. Liam knew this man. He was the one from the security video; the one who had kidnapped Harry.

            The realization took but a moment, and the Winter Soldier was in motion again. Liam positioned himself between the Soldier and Niall and Harry, raised his shield again to deflect another knife.

            “Get him out of here!” Liam yelled to Niall without taking his eyes off his opponent; he trusted Niall to complete the task. He distantly heard Harry yelling something about friends, and not hurting the Soldier, but Liam blocked him out. Liam saw a flash as another barrage of knives were thrown at his face. Liam angled his shield, aiming the rebound of the knives back at the Soldier. The Soldier dove to the side to avoid the ricochet, leaving the doorway unguarded. Liam leapt towards the Soldier.

            “Go go go!” He yelled out. He didn’t have time to see if Harry and Niall took the opening he had given them. He landed solidly on the Soldier’s momentarily prone form, straddling him. He reared his arm back, but didn’t have time to land a blow before the Soldier was twisting and bucking. He braced his metallic arm against the floor. Liam had just enough time to widen his eyes before the Soldier tensed and pushed off, sending Liam soaring through the doorway.

            Liam landed hard on his back and lay still for a moment, trying to draw air into compressed lungs. He scrambled to his feet to see the Solider standing in the doorway. Liam considered rushing and reengaging. But the width of his shoulders was almost that of the corridor. He couldn’t fight in these tight halls; there was no room to move. Time for a retreat, Liam thought hysterically, and began running backwards. He tripped slightly over the fallen bodies of the men he had fought on the way in, but he didn’t dare take his gaze off the slow, measured approach of the soldier.

            He made it to the main deck just in time to see Niall take a running leap into the air, Harry clutched in his arms. Liam shut his eyes, indulging in a moment of relief. Harry was safe.

            But he wasn’t.

            Liam trusted his instincts, and leapt to the side as he heard a whistle of air. The Soldier’s high kick missed his ear by a breath. Liam spun, shield brandished outward to catch the Soldier in the face. But the Soldier was quick, ducking backwards. Liam felt a hint of resistance at the shield skimmed the soldier’s face, but nothing more.

            Liam coiled back his arm, and punched the solider on the cheek. The soldier rolled with force of the blow, but did not slow. His bionic arm shot out, grabbing the edge of Liam’s shield. Liam pulled back sharply, but he didn’t have time for panic when he found he couldn’t break the soldier’s grip; he couldn’t free his shield. The Soldier wrenched the shield backwards. Liam didn’t fight the momentum, instead allowing it to swing him around, twisting midair and landing behind the soldier. But the move had its cost. Liam reared his fist back, and found his move blocked by his own shield, now solely in the possession of the soldier. Liam’s movement faltered for a second, his chest tightening at the sight of someone holding his shield. It looked almost natural on the Soldier’s arm, as though he knew its weight and feel. Liam had no intention of allowing him to get any more familiar with it. Liam punched twice in rapid succession, each one blocked by the shield. He quickly dropped into a crouch, and shot a kick at the soldier’s legs, feeling a jolt of satisfaction when his feet connected solidly with the soldier’s knees. The soldier crumbled, but covered his fall quickly by rolling to the side. He jumped to his feet and before Liam could follow him, tensed his arm and sent Liam’s own shield whizzing towards his head. Liam reared back, and felt the very edge of the shield touch his cheek, slitting the skin like butter. Liam couldn’t help himself from glancing backwards to where his shield was imbedded deeply in the side of the ship, vibrating.

            Liam didn’t really like being on that side of the attack.

            The Soldier didn’t give him time to focus on that. Liam turned back to him just in time to block the flurry of blades as the Soldier danced around him, knives in both hands. Liam whirled, and landed a solid kick in the middle of the Soldier’s sternum. The Soldier flew backwards under the force of the blow, knives falling from opened hands.

            Liam took the split second to wrench his shield out of the bulkhead, his chest heaving with exhaustion from the strength of the Winter Soldier’s onslaught. The man was good.

            The deck was slippery with sea spray; Liam stumbled as the shield slid free, and he turned to face the man again. The Winter Soldier was also struggling to stand, his mask twisted awkwardly around his face. The Soldier ripped it off violently, and turned to jump at Liam once more.

            And Liam froze.

            Liam had spent hours and days wondering what Louis felt when he fell. At what moment he had realized no one was going to catch him, that there was no net, no soft landing, just the weightlessness of air. Liam wondered if there was time for fear or for acceptance or if everything had been frozen.

            Now he knew.

            Liam could feel everything, the sea spray on his face, the wind battering his body, his shield falling from deadened fingers. But he couldn’t move. He throat was tight and he didn’t want to try to breathe, his eyes burning because he didn’t want to blink. The Soldier was slowly walking up to him. No. Not the Soldier.

            Since before he was Captain England, before the serum or the fighting, Liam had kept a photo in his back pocket. Louis had enlisted first, had left Liam behind. The night before Louis left (the first time), Liam had whispered that he was afraid he would forget Louis’ face. And for once, Louis hadn’t mocked or laughed, or poked fun at Liam for having a soft side. He hadn’t said anything; simply hugged Liam and Liam thought maybe Louis shared the same fear. And then Louis had given Liam a gift- a photo of Louis’ smiling face, stolen from his family’s mantle.

            “So you don’t forget who’s handsomer.” He had said, eyes twinkling. Liam never had.

            The picture had stayed with Liam through boot camp, through the parades, through the second time he lost Louis, and when he found him again, fought beside him only to lose him a final time. Tucked in Liam’s back pocket, the photo had slept with him in the arctic.

            He had studied it on sleepless nights, in moments of weakness. He knew every line, every curve, every shadow of Louis’s face. He could never mistake it.

            He knew Louis was standing in front of him.

            He watched, mesmerized as the hallucination in the shape of his dead best friend came closer. Liam knew those cheekbones, the sharp chin, the slight hint of stubble that was all the beard Louis had ever been able to grow. Every beloved detail was there, even the ones Liam had barely remembered coming back with rush.

            The knowledge that Louis was intending to kill him was new though.

            Liam welcomed the first punch, the force of the blow knocking him almost off his feet. His teeth rattled and his jaw burned but as he blinked the moisture from his eyes, it was still Louis’ face that he saw. Not a dream.

            It was Louis or a ghost, or a stranger bearing Louis’ face, or Liam had lost touch with reality entirely. Liam didn’t know, couldn’t think for the constant litany of _Louis_ echoing through his brain.

            Louis was throwing his fists at Liam with deadly focus; Liam was deflecting them as best he was able, trying to bat Louis’ hands to the side. But Louis was fast and landed more hits than he missed; Liam couldn’t to bring himself to fight back.

            Louis obviously had no such compunction. A hard jab slipped passed Liam’s defenses, catching him in the soft tissue of his belly. Liam doubled over, breathe gone from the force of the blow. He knew Louis wouldn’t give him time to recover; he forced his head up just in time to see the fist as it hit his cheek.

            The world whited out. Liam couldn’t see, couldn’t hear, couldn’t fight.

            Sensation came back to him slowly, and he found himself backed against the masthead, Louis’ cold mechanical hand wrapped around his throat.

            Liam was taller than Louis, bigger and thicker.  Yet somehow, he found himself pushed up the wall until his feet were off the ground, his entire weight supported by Louis’ single hand around his neck. Liam couldn’t breathe. He wrapped his own fingers around Louis’ and tried to pry the metal fingers loose, but the fingers were so deeply imbedded in his skin, Liam couldn’t get a grip.

            Louis’ face was inches from his and he could see the maniacal joy in Louis’ face. There was none of the warmth, humor or intelligence Liam knew to be Louis. The eyes, ringed thickly with dark paint, were cold, blank and for the first time in a long time, Liam was afraid.

            “Louis,” Louis’ fingers impossibly tightened, and any words Liam might have wanted to say were lost as he began to choke, his throat entirely obstructed.

            And Louis’ smile was growing, his eyes glowing in triumph when he faltered. His hand quaked. His eyes were locked on the stylized union jack emblazoned on Liam’s chest. He slowly, slowly eased Liam down wall, gaze skittering from Liam’s face to his chest and back again. His mouth twisted downward in a frown, and Liam was close enough to see his throat spasming. As Liam’s feet touched the ground again, Louis released him, taking a step back and raising his hands as though warding Liam off.

            “Who are you?” He whispered, words so quiet they were almost lost in the wind. The rain fell heavily around them, the heavy patter blocking out all sound and creating almost a curtain between the rest of the world and them. Liam knew it was a façade of solitude, but he clung to it.

            “I am Liam. Your Liam.” Liam croaked helplessly, forcing the words out of his burning throat. He itched to reach out, to prove to his fingers that Louis was real. But Louis gave him no chance for such gentleness. Louis’ face twisted, he bared his teeth with a growl. Once more he lunged for Liam, grabbing hold of Liam’s shirt and slamming him into the wall.

            “Who. Are. You?” He asked again through gritted teeth, thumping Liam against the wall with each word. Liam didn’t have time to respond. Though almost all his concentration was on Louis, out of the corner of his eye he saw a waver on the horizon. It was the only indication before the quinjet swooped overhead, guns sending a shower of bullets at Louis’ feet. Louis jumped back, falling into a defensive roll. Liam staggered as Louis let go, him body aching and protesting any movement but he moved to follow Louis anyway.

            “No!” Liam cried, waving his arms at the jet, “Don’t hurt him!” Liam stumbled,    his own feet too tired to correct as he overbalanced. He fell to his knees on the deck, trying to blink the rain out of his eyes; he had to follow Louis.

            He barely even noticed the displacement of air as Niall landed hard on the deck beside him. He did notice the arms grabbing his waist, and pulling him up. Liam would have fought if he had the energy.

            “No…” Liam whispered, but he didn’t have the strength to protest as Niall jumped up and caught the wind, flying away from the carrier. Liam could only look back at the small figure of Louis standing on the deck. This time Liam was the one leaving, flying instead of falling, but somehow it felt the same.


	6. Chapter 6

CHAPTER 6

 

              “They were going to blow me up?” Harry asked slowly, curls barely visible above the thick blanket wrapped around his shoulders. Harry’s knuckles were bone white where they were clenched tightly around the edges. His wide-eyed gaze slid slowly from person to person, as though hoping one of them would deny his statement. None of them could.

            Niall sat next to Harry, trying to offer some sort of unspoken comfort. He knew he had only just met the man, but a rescue mission creates a sort of kinship between all involved. Niall had never been a prisoner of war, never had to face captivity and the horrors therein. But he had seen friends and comrades in the aftermath, and he could see in Harry’s face the same hollowed hurt he had seen in them. Of course, Zayn’s frank explanation as to why the rescue team had been rather small hadn’t helped the lost look on Harry’s face. Niall was a big supporter of the truth, but telling a traumatized bloke that his bosses had authorized his death was a little cold.

            By all accounts, the rescue had been success. They were all here, all alive. But Niall’s bones ached from the tension surrounding everyone on board.

            And Liam. Niall didn’t know what to do about Liam. He still wasn’t sure what had happened down on the boat, or who the man in black had been. But Liam hadn’t said a word since they had returned to the plane, hadn’t even thanked Niall for his timely rescue. Not that he needed to or Niall even expected him to, but Liam’s muscles weighed a lot; it hadn’t been an easy flight.

            “I talked.” Harry whispered into the silent cockpit. “SHIELD wanted to kill me because I was a security risk. And I am.” He whimpered, “I don’t know why they wanted to know that stuff, but I gave it to them. I answered every question they asked. It would have been better to let them bomb the ship.” Niall opened his mouth, a quick denial on the tip of his tongue, but Liam beat him to it.

            “No.” Niall’s head spun to look the Captain; he was still staring sightlessly at the wall but he was talking which was progress. “It wouldn’t be better.” Niall flinched at Liam’s graveled voice. They had all seen the bright red marks on Liam’s throat, but hearing the damage made the wounds more real. But Liam kept talking,

            “We can’t weigh your life against what might happen.” Liam’s voice was getting rougher with each word, and Niall found himself wishing Liam would be quiet again; it hurt Niall to hear it. But Liam talked as though he himself needed to hear the words, “Because no one person’s life would be worth anything. And I can’t live like that. I won’t live like that.” Liam stood slowly and carefully, as though every muscle and tendon were protesting the movement. His shoulders were bowed, and Niall wondered if Liam carried with him the weight of every wrong choice and loss. Liam turned to look at Harry, an exhausted, desperate conviction in his eyes.

            “We will fix this Harry. I made the choice to save you, and I will take responsibility for the consequences. We know what information they have; now all we have to do is. Stop them.” The words were encouraging, and would have been inspiring but for the dead tone of Liam’s voice, how each word dripped with effort and exhaustion.

            But Niall found himself nodding frantically, ready to throw his support behind anything Liam said. He snuck a glance at Harry; Harry’s wide eyes were fixed on Liam, his own melancholy seemingly forgotten in the wake of Liam’s painful speech. No one protested or spoke against Liam’s words.

            No one wanted to see Captain England break.

            Liam nodded sightlessly and walked out of the cockpit and out of sight. Niall stared after him, numb. He heard Harry draw in a shuddering breath, and Niall leaned against Harry; he understood. Behind them, Niall could hear Zayn flipping switches and pressing buttons. It was easy to get lost in the monotonous rhythm. So when Zayn’s fingers still, and he stood, Niall looked up quickly.

            “The plane is on autopilot.” He said, “Don’t touch anything.” He followed Liam.

 

* * *

 

            The quinjet was designed for efficiency and utility. As such, the windows were heavily concentrated in the cockpit, where they were of most use. But in the very tail of the plane were two tiny port windows. Zayn wasn’t sure what their purpose was but he had often found it comforting, on long flights, to lose himself in the passing scenery.

            He found Liam standing motionless in front of the window, staring out into the clouds. Zayn approached slowly, consciously adding weight to his footsteps so his approach would be noted. He reached Liam’s side, and the other man remained silent. Zayn turned until he was slightly behind Liam, their shoulders almost touching. He waited, glancing sideways at his partner. Liam’s hands were clenched at his sides; his feet perfect regulation distance apart. He was perfectly still but for the rapid staccato of his breaths. Even his eyes were fixed steadily at the window, lost in something only he could see.

            “He died.” Liam finally said. Zayn winced at the sandpaper roughness of his voice, sounding worse in the echoey belly of the plane. “I was standing right next to him, and he fell. I couldn’t save him.” Liam was speaking slowly, as though not talking to Zayn as much as reliving a moment. Zayn took a half step closer, touching his shoulder gently to Liam’s. There was not more he could do.

            “I saw him realize what was happening. He reached for me and all I did was watch as he fell and he died Zayn!” Liam turned away from the window to face Zayn. Zayn flinched at the sight of the Captain’s eyes, open impossibly wide, yet ringed red and bloodshot. “There was no way he could have survived that fall. He was dead.”

            “There was no way you could have known Liam.” Zayn said quietly.

            “But I should have!” Liam roared, his abused voice cracking, “I should have looked for him. If there way even the slightest chance he was alive, I should have torn the world apart looking for him. He’s my.. my…” Liam’s voice trailed off, his fingers spasming helpless as he fought to wrangle his thoughts into words. Liam lifted his hands, and Zayn realized his hands weren’t simply clenched. In Liam’s palm as a tattered, worn photo of a smiling boy. It was the photo Zayn knew never left Liam’s back pocket. “He’s my Louis.” Liam finally whispered, as though it explained everything. Maybe it did.

            “It isn’t your fault.” Zayn said, but Liam seemed not to hear him, gaze locked on the photograph.

            “He didn’t know me. He did, but he didn’t...” Liam groaned, the pained sound coming from deep in his chest. He bent at the waist, back twisting as he curled into himself, his hands covering his face. Zayn said nothing, didn’t move from his place beside Liam. But he watched. Watched as Liam straightened, vertebra by vertebra, back trembling with the effort. Liam forced himself to stand, pulled his hands away from his face; Zayn could see the deep red marks in his cheek from where he had anchored his fingers in.

            “I am going to save him.” Liam said. His body was shaking and a little broken but for the first time that evening, his voice was strong. Captain England had a plan. Zayn said nothing. Liam was too good, too idealistic, too sure that the world would rise to his expectations and deign to be saved. Zayn had lived his entire life in shades of grey; Liam’s focus had terrified him when they had first met. Zayn had never seen someone so set on the stubborn single-minded belief that there was a right thing to do, and that it should be done at all cost.

            Watching Liam now, trembling now under the weight of a shifted world, Zayn found himself wondering when Liam’s goodness would break him. The world wasn’t meant for people like him. Zayn had worked with SHIELD long enough to know idealism didn’t last and if Liam clung to it, the weight would destroy everything he was. But, watching the Captain pull himself together piece by jagged piece, Zayn found himself hoping. He had known for months now, but standing in silence next to the Captain, Zayn admitted to himself he didn’t want Liam to break or to change. He would try to keep that from happening, because though it was too late for him in many ways, and the endeavor was likely useless, maybe they would be better for it. He slowly raised one of his hands and let it come to rest on Liam’s shoulder. Neither said a word, but Zayn felt just a touch of tension leave Liam’s body.

            Maybe that was enough for now.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize ahead of time for this one. Its pretty much entirely clunky exposition. Do try to ignore the gapping plot holes - I wasn't able to stitch them up. And, honestly, the entire plot was just an excuse to write man!pain. Sorry!

CHAPTER 7

 

            Niall kept glancing over; he couldn’t help it. His armchair was a perfectly normal size, but somehow it looked almost miniature with Captain England perched awkwardly on the edge of the seat. As far as Niall was concerned, the choice to bring their raggedy group back to his house had been easy. SHIELD was probably aware that Zayn and Liam had gone off the map, meaning their homes were probably under more surveillance than Niall cared to think about. Considering Harry was supposed to be dead, his house wasn’t really an option either. So, Niall had Captain England sitting on his armchair and Agent 13 curled up on his couch. The Black Widower had crept into the house, closed all the curtains, searched every room and was now prowling around his living room. Life was certainly interesting.

            Of course, the unassailable logic that had brought them here hadn’t stopped Liam from looking annoyingly miserable about the whole thing.

            “SHIELD still doesn’t know you were involved in this.” Liam said. Niall turned his back on Liam before rolling his eyes. It had been five minutes since Liam’s last protest. He was right on schedule. “That is the only thing keeping you safe. If we leave now…”

            “Not gonna happen.” Niall interrupted, not bothering to give a more emphatic protest. He had tried that; Liam seemed set on feeling guilty. Niall had spent his entire adult life in the military; honor, allegiance, and obedience had been drilled into him since boot camp. He loved his country, and as far as he was concerned, fighting with Liam and Zayn was his duty as a citizen. Not that the others were very accepting of his offer of continued help, but Niall was perfectly willing to wear them down. Niall walked quickly into the kitchen and rummaged through his fridge, hoping to stave off any more of Liam’s monologues.

            It didn’t really work.

            “This could be construed as treason; I don’t think you know what that could mean for you.” Liam’s guilt had apparently propelled him out of the armchair (which was silly. That armchair was ridiculously comfortable. Niall should know; he owned the damn thing) and he had followed Niall into the kitchen. Niall took a fortifying breath of the cold, refrigerated air.

            “Sometimes,’ He said, turning slowly to face Liam, “to fight for your country, you have to fight against those who are running it.” He crossed his arms, and met Liam’s guilty gaze head on. Niall was no coward; he was not backing away from this. Liam would understand that eventually. Liam must have seen something in Niall’s gaze; his tight shoulder’s loosened a little.

            “Careful now. That sounds a little bit like anarchy, Horan.” Liam said, and Niall felt like cheering; he could see the almost smile on Liam’s face.

            “No, it sounds like fun.” He corrected with a flick of his finger. Liam was staring at Niall as though he wasn’t entirely sure Niall was sane. Not that Niall would protest that finding, but he really didn’t think Liam had any room to judge, considering his status as an overly noble antique popsicle. He shooed Liam back to the living room, before grabbing a few bags out of the cupboards, and piling them on a tray. He gathered up his load and headed back to the living room.

            “Cheer up boys, we are having a beer night!” He anticipated, and was not disappointed when Liam’s head shot up, a comically scandalized look on his face.

            “No, we are not Niall! Wait,” Liam confused eyes darted from the bags of snacks Niall was loading onto the coffee table, to the brick of beer he had been saving for just such an occasion. “How did you get all this already?” Liam asked. Harry had uncurled from the corner of the couch, and was reaching eagerly for a bag of pretzels. Even Zayn was creeping closer. Niall popped open a bag of crisps and tossed a handful in his mouth. Oh, but he had a lot of things to teach Captain England.

            “Always be prepared, mate!” He said, solemnly offering the crisps, “Always prepared. ”

 

* * *

 

            “I answered everything they asked, but all they wanted was my latest algorithm. He just kept saying he needed me to talk by 5 AM.” Harry forced himself to talk evenly and keep his attention on the faces around him. His can of beer was sweating in his hands, the cold metal a pleasant thing to focus on. If he tried really, really hard, maybe his mind would stop flashing back to the cold room, the stupid chair, and the rod. Though beer and crisps were a much more pleasant motivator, the barrage of questions from Liam and Zayn still felt like another interrogation.

            “What was your algorithm for?” Liam asked from his armchair directly across from Harry. Harry appreciated the straight questions. Talking about his work was easy; he understood algorithms, designs and programs. Understanding what all this meant, and why he had been dragged into it? That was making his head hurt.

            “I created a microchip that captures the analog signal released by the processors in certain equipment, then decodes, converts and reverses it. Its for remotely operating mining equipment, to reduce the number of work site fatalities.” He said. Rehashing his kidnapping wasn’t fun, but Harry was going to help if it killed him. No matter how much he wanted to sleep for a week and pretend the last two days hadn’t happened, he was going to make sure no one suffered just because Liam Payne had decided Harry’s life was worth something.

            “Could it be used on other things? Bigger things?” Zayn asked. At the moment, he was standing by the curtained windows, but he hadn’t stayed in one place since they had arrived at Niall’s. He went from window to window, peeking carefully behind the curtains. The thought that such vigilance was most likely warranted was doing nothing to soothe Harry’s splintered nerves. Harry turned his head to the side and considered Zayn’s question.

            “Yeah, in theory.” Harry replied slowly, “If programmed correctly, my algorithm can complete incredibly detailed and complicated maneuvers remotely, but it just doesn’t have the computing power to allow control of anything larger than a bucket wheel excavator.” Harry was proud of his creation. When Dirksen had given him the initial requisition for a remote program, Harry had known he could create something big, something that could make a difference in people’s lives. It was supposed to make the world safer. If something he created was going to be used to hurt people… Harry swallowed against the flush of acid in his throat, his beer can crinkled as his hand spasmed. Harry really didn’t want to hurt people.

            “I don’t understand why they wanted that.” He said quietly. The soft squeak of couch cushions was the only warning Harry got before Niall plopped himself next to Harry, and threw an arm around Harry’s shoulders. Harry gave in easily to the gentle pressure, and let himself be pulled against Niall’s side. Harry had had a bad week; he would take all the comfort he could get.

            “We don’t know either,” Liam’s eyes were gentle and understanding; Harry held his gaze for a moment before he had to look away, blinking rapidly.

            “Liam?” Liam looked over to Zayn. Zayn flicked his head toward the kitchen, before slipping soundless into the room. With an apologetic smile, Liam scrambled after him. Harry watched them go with exhausted disinterest. Niall was comfortable to lean against. Harry never wanted to move.

            “Those two are extremely odd blokes.’ Niall said meditatively, ‘Love them both, but they are odd.” Harry nodded into Niall’s shoulder. That wasn’t something he would ever argue. He glanced up to see Niall staring down at him with a soft smile.

            “Another beer?”

            “God, yes.” Harry said fervently. Niall giggled as he reached for the box, and for a moment, Harry felt almost normal.

 

* * *

 

            “What’s going on, Zayn?” Liam asked quietly as he followed Zayn into the kitchen. Zayn was standing by the counter, pulling papers out of a thick folder.

            “I need your opinion.” He said without turning. Liam walked up behind him and peered at the spread papers. He grabbed the closest one and quickly scanned the page. It was a biography, a picture of a smiling man in the corner.

            “Who is Martin Feldman?” He asked, not recognizing the name or the face.

            “A freelance contractor in the field of electrical engineering,” Zayn answered, handing Liam another page. This one was a picture of a dusty group of people. Liam quickly picked out Martin, standing in the middle with his arm around a pretty woman. “He had just finished doing a consultation for SHIELD when he and a work crew were kidnapped by, I think, the same group who had Harry. He was killed the day before help came.” Liam winced at the casual mention of a lost life, but most of his attention was on the photo. The woman looked familiar. Liam was sure he had seen her face. But not smiling... He felt a fissure shoot up his spine.

            “The hostages in Yemen.” Liam didn’t bother making it a question, but Zayn nodded in confirmation nonetheless. Looking at the picture again, Liam could recognize the faces of the people he and Zayn had rescued only a week before. Liam carefully placed the photo back on the counter, unable to stare at Laura’s smiling face without hearing her accusations in his head. He grabbed a handful of papers and started to flip through, glancing up at Zayn as he did.

            “Does it say what Feldman was consulted on?”

            “The schematics for a power amplifier.” Zayn answered promptly, leaning one hip against the counter top. Liam nodded absentmindedly, wincing as one of the papers ran through a rather graphic record of Feldman’s time with the Yemen rebels. Liam’s brow wrinkled. The papers were interrogation transcripts. There was no way SHIELD could have obtained the documents unless… Liam slowly lowered the papers, and met Zayn’s calm gaze.

            “Wait. So when you were in the control room-” Liam trailed off

            “I was told to get the interrogation tapes before the retrieval team did. I just didn't tell the director I kept a copy.” Zayn said easily.

            “You didn't tell me.” Liam said faintly, his mind buzzing. Liam had tried to forget his feelings of betrayal after the Yemen mission; Zayn had more than proved his dependability in the past day alone. Yet, the tiny seed of doubt, of wonder at Zayn’s intentions had hurt. But Liam had been wrong about it all. Zayn might have followed the orders he had been given, but he had not done so mindlessly. And Liam had the audacity to doubt him. Zayn shrugged easily at the shock in Liam’s voice.

            “I wasn't sure you were ready to go against SHIELD. You are impressively rebellious for a military man.” Zayn said, and Liam knew him well enough to pick out the thread of forgiveness in his dry tone. It would take Liam much longer to forgive himself, but they didn’t have time for his self-pity. Liam cleared his throat brusquely against the faint rise of emotion, and grabbed another page from the counter, this one filled with complicated looking mess of numbers and letters.

            “What does it mean?” Liam asked, turning the page sideways with the slim hope the page would make sense. It didn’t. He held it out to Zayn, but Zayn wrinkled his nose and made no move to take the proffered paper.

            “I don’t know. I just pretend like I know everything.” He said, taking a step back as though the math was a weapon. Almost as one, Liam and Zayn glanced through the doorway, to the curly haired engineering genius sitting on the couch, mouth open to catch the cheese curls Niall was gleefully pelting at his face.

            That would work.

 

* * *

 

 

            Harry sat at the kitchen table, bent over the paper until the tip of his nose almost touched the tiny, scrawling print.

            “Oh…” He murmured to himself, “I see… And the power comes from… ohhhhh!” He traced the path of the numbers with a tip of his finger, maintaining an almost steady exhale of excitement. Niall was seated across from him, seemingly entranced by Harry’s facial expressions. Liam was not as complacent. He could barely keep himself from shuffling from foot to foot in impatience. They all needed Harry’s analysis before any plan could even begin to form, but the waiting was slowly killing him.

             “It's really good actually!” Harry looked up from the page, his eyes bright with the joy of discovery, “This Feldman guy is really good! His device could increase the operating capacity of a single program a hundred times! I would love to meet him and pick his brain!” Harry’s face fell with almost comic swiftness “...Oh. Right.” Harry lowered his eyes, as though having a moment of silence for the former engineer. On any other day, Liam would have thought it sweet. At the moment, he really needed Harry’s attention on the schematics.  

            “Could your algorithm work with his amplifier?” Harry frowned at Liam’s question, his face scrunched in concentration.

            “Yeah…” He said slowly, glancing back at the sprawl of papers on the table. ‘Actually, they would work together really well.” Harry stopped talking. He reached a hand up to cup the back of his neck, seemingly lost in his own mental calculations.

            “But this technology is new.” Harry finally continued, “Like, really new. I mean, it's just too vast to be grandfathered into any existing motherboard.” He leaned towards Liam, as though proximity would help Liam understand his explanation. Liam leaned forward in response; any little bit helped. “In order to run both my algorithm and this system- and have it be actually worthwhile- you would need an operating system much more powerful that, well, anything SHIELD has right now.

            “Like a helicarrier?” Zayn asked but Harry shook his head.

            “No, even those are too outdated. Technology changes fast!” It did change fast; Liam had learned that. Had realized it when almost every week SHIELD had another grand reveal of the latest addition to its fleet. Like the one Dirksen had been planning.

            “No.” Liam said slowly, “There is a new one.” A new, highly advanced helicarrier, set for its maiden launch tomorrow if Liam remember correctly.

            “Really? That's.” Harry cleared his throat, “Not particularly good news.” He said weakly. 

            “That is why there has been all this bother? For a single carrier?” Niall asked, still slouched in his chair, his feet propped up on the table. He was the picture of relaxation, but for the hard glint in his eyes.

            “Each carrier has the weapons capacity to destroy several small countries.” Zayn answered, “Not to mention they are practically invisible to all sensors, and impossible to track. Maybe they plan to reverse engineer it, make their own fleet. It doesn't matter the reasons; they can't get it, Niall. The shifting power balances could change everything” Zayn voice was low with a fissure of tension that had Liam sitting straighter in his chair. If Zayn was uneasy, than they should all be nervous.

            “So what do we do?” Liam asked under his breath, more to himself than to his friends. But Harry answered,

            “Once the programs are put in the operating systems, there is nothing we can do remotely, “ He shoved a flurry of papers in Liam’s direction. Liam accepted the pages, and stared at them, not sure how to tell Harry they really meant nothing to him. Harry leaned over and pointed to a series of numbers on one of the pages, “All operating control will be routed through the program, to wherever they have designated.  We have to get onto the ship and disable it manually.”

            “Ok.” Niall clapped his hands together, “So we just call up all your SHIELD buddies, tell them the dealio and get them to take care of it, right? Their carrier, their problem.” Liam stared hard at the incomprehensible page in front of him. They should be able to go to SHIELD. The organization was designed to maintain world security, and this was a major threat to the safety of both SHIELD and the country. Of course SHIELD should be told of what they had found.

            Right?

            “Ok. Wait.” Liam raised his hand. There was a detail that was nagging at him, pulling at the back of his mind. If the others thought he was wrong, they could go to SHIELD. But the twist of Liam’s gut was telling him it would be a mistake. He turned to Zayn, “We were sent to Yemen the day after Martin was killed, right? It wasn’t even a mission until after his death.” Zayn nodded tightly, and Liam knew it would take a long while before either of them looked back on the mission with anything but distaste. But that was only part of the mystery.

            “The plan was to bomb Harry to stop the information leak,” Liam continued, “but Harry said Howard specifically told him he needed Harry’s information by 5AM.”

            “The plan was to bomb the boat at 6 AM.” Zayn finished Liam’s argument for him. Liam almost sagged with relief; if Zayn saw the connection as well, than it couldn’t be just his paranoia talking.

            “Harry and Martin both had the pieces of information needed for Howard's plan to work. Each time, SHIELD managed to intervene right after the knowledge was acquired. And create enough of a mess no one would notice.” Liam said. He heard Niall groan, followed by a heavy thump. Liam glanced over in alarm to see that Niall had dropped his head onto the table, his hands now buried in his hair. Liam could appreciate the sentiment.

            “There might be more to it though.” Harry whispered.

            “What do you mean?” Harry opened his mouth, but said nothing for a moment, casting his eyes around the room as though searching for words.

            “I said my algorithm could work with this amplifier.” He drawled, eyes fixed of Niall’s kitchen cabinets, “But they don’t just work together. My remote control fits perfectly into the schematic for this amplifier. Its almost like they were designed for e.e.e.ach other.” Harry finally turned to face Liam, his voice stuttering as though he wasn’t sure he should continue. “And Dirksen commissioned my design personally.” Liam released a quick breath. Ah, that made things even more complicated.

            “What are you saying Harry?” He asked, even though he knew exactly what Harry was implying.

            “I don't know! I don't know what I am saying. But I am just not sure we can trust the director or SHIELD with this.” Liam rather thought the reveal should have carried more weight. SHIELD had given him a home when he had none, a purpose in the middle of the bewildering new world. He owed them everything he had. And yet. He had already gone against SHIELD to rescue Harry; attacking them to save the free world should be even easier.

            “So if we can’t go to SHIELD, what do we do?” Niall’s voice was muffled, as he was still face down on the table.

            “We go right to the helicarrier.” Liam answered. Niall’s head shot up at that, and he stared at Liam with his mouth open.

            “What?” Liam wrinkled his brow at the confusion in Niall’s voice. He had thought that option was obvious.

            “The launch is tomorrow, right? If we can get on to the carrier before it launches, maybe we can disable the programming before Howard even has a chance to start it. Harry?” Harry’s eyes widened at the direct question and he mouthed silently for a moment before gathering his thoughts into speech, “Yeah, I mean, I can’t disable it remotely, but if someone can cut off the algorithm at the source… yeah, that could work?”

            “But how exactly are we going to get in?” Zayn asked. He was staring at his feet, lips pursed. Liam was sure that, given five minutes, Zayn could come up with a convoluted, elegant plan involved a quinjet, repelling ropes and a fair dose of subterfuge. And his plan would probably work flawlessly. But Liam was pretty sure simplicity was the best option here.  

            “We are going to walk on.” He said firmly, before amending quickly, “Well, I will walk on, and get Harry where he needs to go. Niall, you can perch on the carrier, and be ready to give us aerial support if needed. Zayn-” There was one job only Zayn was capable of doing; he had he knowledge and the skill, but Liam wasn’t sure he could ask it of him. But Zayn gave him a half smile, and cut him off.

            “I know where I need to go.”


	8. Chapter 8

CHAPTER 8

 

Zayn found Liam in Niall’s back room, shining his shield with a single-minded purpose that indicted his mind was anywhere but on what his hands were doing. Zayn saw Liam's eye twitch and knew, though his footsteps were silent, his approach had not gone unnoticed. But Liam's hands did not falter, nor did he acknowledge Zayn's presence. Zayn continued forward until he was at Liam's shoulder. He stopped and watched Liam’s almost hypnotic motions. With the cloth gripped tightly in his fingers, Liam's hand glided over the shield’s surface. He stayed within the lines of each ring, buffing in tight, quick circles. Even as a spectator, Zayn could see the calming monotony. But Zayn had tracked Liam down for a reason.

"The Winter Soldier is one of Howard’s greatest assets." Zayn said when it became clear Liam was not going to speak first. Liam's hands paused for a barely noticeable moment, fingers spasming against the bright metal. 

"I know." Liam responded as he continued to shine. Zayn allowed himself a wince at the sound of Liam's voice. The words were sharp, like pieces of ground glass that had scrapped Liam's throat as they had escaped. His allowed his gaze to slip up to the roof, and fought the urge to run his hands through his hair or to shuffle from foot to foot. But in moments like these, Zayn's training was too ingrained to not fall back on. He didn't want to continue, didn't want to force Liam to think about what they were about to do and the task that would inevitably fall to the Captain. Zayn hadn't had many friends in his life, though he knew the horror of fighting one. But there was too much at stake here to indulge pity.  

"They know we are trying to stop them, and they are going to send everything at us." Zayn said. 

            “I know.”

“Do you?” Zayn growled,  “Liam, there are millions of lives in the balance here. It isn’t about you or Louis this time. If he is up there on the carrier, you-”

"You think I don’t know that?" Liam stopped his endless shining, and turned to face Zayn. The light from the overhead lamp reflected off the almost impossibly bright surface of the shield, hitting Liam's face and enhancing each crag and hallow. Liam looked old. Zayn held Liam's gaze, but it was hard.

“You think that hasn’t been the only thing I have thought about since the moment I saw him? You think I haven’t realized that I am going to have to choose between saving the world and saving my best friend?" Zayn wished Liam was yelling, wished his eyes were blazing and there was something for Zayn to rail against. But Liam's voice was dull and blunted, as though the energy expanded by speaking was more than Liam had to spare.

“I know what I have to do Zayn.” Liam eyes fell, as though he no longer had the will to maintain eye contact. His gaze focused on a point above Zayn's shoulder, his eyes unfocused. Zayn half wondered what he was seeing but knew he didn't really want to know. Didn't want to hear what memories were running through Liam's head.  Zayn knew his role; he did the jobs no one else would, he pushed when no one else dared. And he would push Liam here because too much was riding on this. He couldn't be Liam's friend right now. He wanted take it back, to take the burden from Liam to say I'm sorry but the useless words stuck in his throat. He nodded though Liam was no longer looking at him, and turned away. There was nothing more he could say.

Behind him, Zayn heard the quiet scratch of cloth begin again; he couldn't look back. Liam’s shield had become a symbol of hope and patriotism, of the ideals Liam had been created to represent. Zayn couldn’t watch Liam shine it as though he could, by force of will alone, make himself to believe in it again.

 

* * *

 

Liam sat with his eyes closed and rolled with the gentle bumping of the car. Zayn had peeled off the moment they had entered the SHIELD grounds, his task needing a different entry point. Niall was driving the supply truck, their entire plan riding on the hope no one had realized Niall was a part of anything. Either way, Liam reminded himself as he forced his breaths to remain deep and regular; there was nothing more to be done now. He could hear Niall singing loudly along to the radio, and wished he had even a fraction of Niall’s bravery. He could feel Harry fidgeting beside him. He knew Harry was an agent, had been for longer than Liam. But before all, Harry was a scientist. As such, Liam was impressed by Harry’s willingness to jump in, and lend a hand to solve the mess Liam had created. Liam didn’t know how he had managed to find good men in the middle of the mess that was SHIELD, but having people he trusted by his side made everything a little bit better.

"You knew the Soldier." Liam let his eyes blink open and tried to force his face not to react to Harry’s question. He knew exactly who Harry was talking about, and was rather surprised it had taken this long for Harry to bring it up.   

"Yes." He said, because how could he explain what he and Louis were to each other. How they so much more than knew each other. To his side, Liam could just see Harry's curly head bobbing, as though Liam's one word answer had said all Harry had wanted to know.

 “He was nice,” Harry said quickly, tongue almost tripping over words. He spoke as though he was afraid Liam would tell him to be quiet.  “But they hurt him, and took him away and when he came back, he was different as though he didn't even remember me at all. I don't know why they are doing to him, but I don't think it's his choice. I think...”

“Harry,” Liam cut off Harry’s words, but didn’t trust himself to say more. He wasn't sure he could keep his voice steady. For all his brave words to Zayn, Liam wasn't sure he could do this. Even with the weight of European freedom on the line, the thought of hurting Louis made the acid in Liam's stomach roll and burn. The thought of hurting a Louis who didn't know what he was doing, who had been tortured into compliance... Liam needed Harry to stop before the weight of it all drove Liam to his knees.

Liam wondered how many times he could put himself together until there wouldn't be enough of him left to really bother. He had moved on after the death of his parents, Louis' enlistment, the loss of the body he had known his whole life, Louis’ death, and losing everyone and everything he had known. But with each loss, Liam had felt a hollow growing in his chest. Zayn and Niall, even Cowell to some extent had given some of it back, but Liam didn't think anything could have ever made up for what he had lost. The thought of having Louis back, but then not having him, of having to maybe, possibly... No, Liam shuddered. He couldn't think that.

Each loss might have taken a little bit of Liam with it, but to lose Louis again in such a way-

Liam knew he couldn't move on from that. 

“I'm sorry.” Harry whispered into the quiet car, his large eyes seeming somehow bigger, soft with a sympathy Liam wasn't sure he could take. Liam nodded stiffly, not trusting his voice. He could appreciate what Harry was trying to do, to give him back a small piece of the Louis he once had. But it hurt.

“Thank you Harry.” Liam said. The words tasted like razor blades. “It helps.”

 

* * *

 

 

“We have arrived, Good Sirs!” Niall opened the truck doors with a flourish, his helmet perched jauntily on his head. Liam clapped him on the shoulder as he climbed out. They were in an empty warehouse. Distantly, Liam could hear the buzz of voices and stamping feet; they couldn’t be far away from the gathering of helicarrier personnel. Liam brushed himself off quickly, and straightened his uniform. His shield was carefully tucked in the oversized pack slung over his shoulder, the rather obvious identifier hidden until it was needed. He glanced back. Niall was standing next to Harry, whispering something in his ear. Harry’s head was hanging down, but nodding quickly in response to whatever Niall was saying. Liam could see Harry’s shoulders shaking and had to look away.

Liam wasn’t being fair. They were about to commit treason against the very organization they worked for. He hadn’t even asked Harry if he was willing to help; he had assumed. He was dragged him from a vicious kidnapping into a betrayal of his own country. And Niall wasn’t even a part of SHIELD; he only reason his life was now in danger was because he had been naive enough to be nice to Liam in the gym.

“Can you tell me what to do?” The words fell from Liam’s lips almost without thought. Harry and Niall both looked at him in confusion.

“What?”

“If you tell me what to do, I can do it. I can disable the program. You don’t need to get involved, Harry. And Niall, you don’t need to do this. You can walk away now. I am sorry I got you involved.”Harry cocked his head to the side, looking at Liam as though he were speaking in tongues. Niall blinked at him.

“You are sorry?” Niall groaned. He shut his eyes and leaned forward to bang his head against the side of the car. Alarmed, Liam reached out to grab Niall and stop his sudden bout of self-harm. Before his hand made contact with Niall’s shoulder, Niall whirled around and grabbed Liam’s hand between both of his. “Shut. Up.” Niall said, tugging on Liam’s hand. “This is the best thing that has happened to me since before my knee blew. Stop trying to take it away.” He pulled Liam’s hand up to his chest, finger’s tight around Liam’s hand, but some how gentle.

“Its my program. Of course I am going to disable it, you idiot.” Harry grumbled from behind him. Though when Liam turned – as much as Niall’s grip would allow- he found Harry smiling gently at him. He reached out and rested his hand on Liam's chest, “You don’t need to do this on your own, Liam. Your friends are here to help you. Just let us, ok?” Liam had to look down, fighting the abrupt burning in his eyes. Friends. Ok. He could do that.

            And maybe they could do this. 


	9. Chapter 9

CHAPTER 9

 

           There was a long line of personnel streaming towards the new helicarrier. It was easy to slip into the line. Liam’s steps were measured and regular; Harry found himself almost skipping to keep up with the Captain’s long strides.

           They had borrowed SHIELD-issued jumpsuits and helmets; they melded smoothly into the flow of identically dressed people. Liam caught Harry’s eye, and deliberately dropped his head down. Harry mimicked him; it wouldn’t do to get recognized this close to the prize.

           Liam ducked easily through the crowd, Harry hurrying to follow in the wake he left. It didn’t take Harry long to catch on to Liam’s unspoken plan. There were half a dozen entrances to the carrier; Liam was steering them to the backmost door. Harry approved. If things went wrong –if, Harry was going to keep thinking ‘if’- fewer witnesses were always better.

           The back entrance had only one guard, a thin man whose gun seemed larger than him. He stood to attention at their approach, offering a snappy salute that Liam and Harry echoed easily.

           “Boarding orders?” The guard asked, and Harry felt his stomach drop. Oh god, this was where it all went wrong.

           “I don’t have any.” Liam replied. Harry glanced sideways. Liam wasn’t even going to pretend he was supposed to be here? The guard seemed to share Harry’s confusion, taking a step back and regarding the two with narrowed eyes.

           “I can not let you…” His voice trailed off, and his eyes widened. “Wait. I… Captain England?” his voice trembled a little on the title, but Harry couldn’t tell if it was with reverence or fear. Liam straightened his back, and carefully removed his helmet. The guard’s eyes got impossibly wider.

           “Yes.” Liam said. Harry watched the guard gulp, and he lowered his gun until it was pointed directly at Liam’s chest. Harry squeaked and took a step forward but Liam stopped his motion with an outstretched hand, not taking his eyes off the guard.

           “They said you went rogue,” The guard whispered, licking his lips. “That you betrayed SHIELD.” His voice was almost pleading.

           “I’m didn’t,’ Liam said, slowly extending his hand towards the solider, palm up. “You are a good soldier, and I know you are following orders, but I am trying to do something good here and stop a lot of people from being hurt. You can try to stop me; I know that’s your job. But I hope you don’t.” The guard’s eyes were locked on Liam’s, his gun was wavering in his hands; Harry was half afraid he was going to shoot Liam entirely by accident. But the soldier snapped to attention, gun pulled up to his side. He stepped away from the door, his right hand snapping to his brow in a perfect salute.

           “Captain.” Liam nodded slowly as he stepped passed the guard and onto the ship. He placed a hand on the guard’s shoulder

           “Thank you.” He said earnestly, before gesturing for Harry to hurry down the corridor. Harry glanced back as they ran, expecting the guard to fire on their backs, or to be sounding the alarm. But he did neither, standing at his station as though nothing had happened.

           “How did do that?” Harry asked Liam quietly as they turned a corner, the guard falling out of sight.

           “Do what?” Liam asked, his forehead wrinkled in confusion. Harry opted not to answer, just shook his head. Better that the Captain not know the power he had over those who revered him.

 

* * *

 

           The main flight deck was easy to find; all updates to the helicarrier aside, SHIELD lacked the creativity to change the layout.

           Liam forced the door open, and stepped quickly inside to face squarely the two occupants.

           “You should leave now.” He said, hands clenched on his hips. The pilots were staring wide eyed at Liam’s fists, and either Liam’s reputation was more powerful than he had imagined, or SHIELD training didn’t quite take precedence over survival instinct, for both pilots scurried away without a token of protest.

           Harry settled quickly into the abandoned chair. He placed his hands over the controls, fingers barely skimming the buttons. He closed his eyes, and Liam watched him take a deep, slow breath. On the exhale, Harry opened his eyes and his fingers began to fly. Liam could barely track their motion across the control boards.

           “Ok.” Harry murmured, “The ship definitely has more weapons power than the previous ones, and definitely has the capacity to run the program. But I should be able to stop the signal from connecting if I just…” Harry leaned almost out of his seat, tapping a series of buttons. He paused, and hit the same series again. Liam didn’t know what Harry was expecting, but based on the Harry’s wide eyes and suddenly ramrod straight spine, it hadn’t happened. Harry stood, and slowly hit the buttons a third time, movements slow and sharp. He turned to Liam, eyes wide with a panic that had Liam’s chest tightening. This wasn’t going to be good.

           “The program is already running,” Harry said, voice shaking, “We were right, they are taking over the helicarrier, but I assumed they were going to wait until after take off, so it would be too late for interference, but they didn’t.” Liam nodded tightly. Ok. New plan. Before Liam could speak, he felt a rumble go through the ship as the engines engaged. A voice echoed through the ship-wide speakers, announcing the beginnings of takeoff maneuvers. Liam turned to Harry, who was shaking his head frantically.

           “They already have complete control. The engines are going but,” He waved his hands spasmodically, “There are obviously no pilots here.” Liam swallowed thickly. If the ship was already in motion, their time window was dwindling.

           “Can you break the signal?”

           “No.” Liam shook his head at Harry’s answer. That wasn’t what he needed to hear.

           “What?” He asked, voice cracking on the question. Harry shook his head quickly,

           “Wait.  I meant not from here. If the main circuitry is destroyed, then it would all be moot, but I can’t do that from here.” That sounded better. That sounded            like action, and Liam could handle action.

           “Where.” He said, hitched his shield onto his shoulder.

           “The main engine room.” Harry said quickly, “The circuit would have been installed on the third level power hub.”

           “Ok.” Liam frowned as Harry made to stand, as though he thought he was going to follow Liam.

           “No,” Liam said quickly, stopping Harry with a gentle hand to the chest, “I need you to stay here and take over control when I break the signal.” Harry nodded, head bobbing so fast it looked painful. Liam glanced quickly around the room, and spotted what he was looking for. He walked to the far wall, and grabbed an exposed pipe jutting from the ceiling. It was thick; his fingers could barely make it around the circumference. It was perfect. Liam tightened his grip, allowing the tension to run up his arms, the muscles in his arms and back and abdomen tightening and straining. Liam grunted, and pivoted sharply. The pipe snapped cleanly. Liam handed the pipe to a wide-eyed Harry.

           “Shove this against the door the moment I leave. Let no one in.” Harry nodded. Liam pressed his finger against his earbud.

           “Niall?”

           “Cap?” Niall’s voice crackled to life.

           “Harry is locked on the main flight deck, starboard side, eighth floor. Can you stick close in case he needs a quick exit?” Liam said, eyeing Harry to ensure he understood his part in this plan. Harry nodded his consent, fingers still tightly wrapped around the pipe.

           “Aye aye Cap!” Niall said. With one last glance at Harry, Liam set off.

 

* * *

 

           Liam ran down the corridor, time too short now for subtly. The first people he ran by simply stared at him wide eyed and let him pass without confrontation.

           It was too good to last.

           Communication was impressively fast, Liam admitted to himself as he punched a SHIELD agent in the cheek. He had turned a corner only to be confronted with a group of seven soldiers waiting for his arrival. Liam forced himself to continue, but as the rebound from each punch vibrated up his arm he was reminded that these were allies he was fighting, brothers and sisters-in-arms who were following the only orders they had. Liam knew he needed to get through them to complete his part of this plan, but each crack of bone, each pained cry was an empty victory.

           He kept his gun holstered, and pulled his punched as best he was able. Broken bones would heal; he had no desire to kill anyone. Liam crouched down and propelled himself into a backflip, distancing himself from the scrum. Before the soldiers could regroup, Liam lowered his shield, braced it against his shoulder and ran. He ploughed through the group, bullets, fists and people pinging off his shield. Liam didn’t stop once he was through; he kept on running. He had a control room to find.

           Liam heard the screams before he saw anything. They echoed through the metal corridors, vibrating in such a way that Liam couldn’t tell what direction they were coming from. He paused at an intersection, and held his breath as he listened. But the cries and gunfire seemed to come from every direction at once, an untraceable cacophony.

           Liam couldn’t wait for the noise to come to him. He turned left, hoping it was the quickest way to the control room.

           Instead, he found the chaos.

           The Winter Soldier was walking down the hallway, movements smooth and unhurried. He held a gun in each hand, anyone who dared approached him was picked off with a chilling calm. He had the same languid grace of the Liam’s Louis, but seeing it in such a setting made Liam’s breath catch.

           Louis’ metal arm gleamed in the artificial light, but face was covered once again with the black mask, and Liam was grateful. He could almost pretend. Almost.

           He knew Louis saw him; knew the moment his step faltered that Louis had seen him peering down the corridor. Liam allowed himself one moment to stare at Louis. He held his breath, not knowing how to voice what he was hoping for. But Louis calmly raised his hand and fired his gun at Liam’s head. Liam ducked around the corner, and ran. Maybe if he was fast enough, Louis wouldn’t find him. Maybe.

           “Out of the way!” Liam yelled, shouldering passed a group of shocked guards. “Get away from this corridor – do not engage!” He called over his shoulder, but he couldn’t waste any more time on explanations.

           Time was running out.

           “Liam?” Harry’s shaky voice sprang to life out of his ear bud.

           “Yeah?” Liam acknowledged briefly, attention more on the corridors ahead of him than the voice in his ear.

           “Um. They are kind of shooting at stuff?”

           “We knew they were going to shoot at us.” Liam panted. Was it left, or right? God, why did all the hallways have to look the same?

           “No. The carrier is shooting at London now. It’s attacking the city.” Liam stopped moving. He hadn’t considered that. If Louis was on board, Howard must have known they were hoping to stop the hijack. But Liam hadn’t even considered that Howard would attempt to fight his way through the city. That made time even shorter.

           “Yeah,” Niall’s breathless voice entered the conversation, “Missiles are rather hard to redirect, even with wings.” Liam could hear the sound of wind around Niall’s voice; he must have taken flight. That was one thing on their side.

           “Keep at it Niall - ”

           “Whoa!” Niall’s exclamation exploded through the comms.

           “What? Niall, Respond!” Liam barked, hand grasping at his ear bud as he waited for Niall to speak again.

           “The airforce just joined the battle – a couple of jets are now firing on the carrier. Liam, what the hell am I supposed to do about that?” Even as Niall spoke, Liam felt a delicate shockwave pass beneath his feet: a dissipated fraction of a hull shot. The carrier was attacking the city, and SHIELD was responding by attacking the carrier. God, this had gotten complicated.

           “Distract them Niall. There are good people on board here.” Liam started running again. He turned the last corner, and let out a single sigh of relief at the control came into view. The doors slid open smoothly to reveal the slim walkway leading up to the main control tower.

           Louis was standing in the middle. Liam stopped.

           “I can’t talk anymore, guys.” He said slowly, before allowing his hand to drop away from his ear bud. The doors slid shut behind him, cutting off all sound but the gentle whir of the machinery around him. Liam stepped onto the walkway.

           “People are going to die, Lou.” Somewhere along the way, Louis had lost his mask. He stood before Liam, face tense and unmoving, and so painfully familiar. Liam took another step closer.

           “I can’t let that happen.” Louis gave no hunt of movement, his body loose and limber, his blank eyes fixed on Liam. It was a standoff.

           “Please don’t make me do this.” Liam said, not bothering to hide the crack in his voice. He was calm, his hands steady on his shield. But each thump of his heart ached in his chest, and the catch in his throat that had formed the moment he had seen Louis again was making it hard to speak. But Louis gave no indication that Liam’s plea meant anything. He lowered his chin, eyes narrowing but he made no move. Ok. Liam nodded tightly. First move to him.

           Liam tensed him arm, his shield flying from his fingers and spinning towards Louis. Louis deflected it against his metal arm, sparks exploding around him at the collision. Liam caught his shield on the rebound, bringing it up to his face in time to catch the flurry of bullets Louis was firing towards him.

           The fight had begun.

 

* * *

 

           Dirkson was leaning over his desk, hands clenched together to the point his knuckles had turned white. His phone was on speaker, tinny voices talking over each other in panicked layers.

            “If the carrier and its personnel have gone rogue, bring it down. I don’t want any defectors to survive.” Dirksen said, voice loud in an attempt to be heard over the cacophony.

            “There are people on the carrier. We will have it back under our control in a few minutes.” Dirksen whirled around with a sharp intake of breath, hands coming automatically up towards his face as though to ward off a blow. Being silent was an important part of Zayn’s job, and had saved his life too many times to count. But he was glad of the skill if only for the reactions people had when he made his presence known. He slowly slinked out of the shadowy corner of Dirksen’s office, enjoying watching the fear on Dirksen’s face melt into comprehension and then disappear behind the mask of the director.  

            “Agent Malik.” He said, smoothing his hands across his suit, trying to hide the fact that he had been scared, “Welcome back. But such a threat as a rogue carrier must be dealt with.” Zayn took another step forward, and cocked his head to the side.

            “The carrier is being controlled by an outside source. The people on board are not involved.” He said slowly, watching Dirksen’s carefully controlled face.

            “You know I can’t take those chances.” Dirksen said, shaking his head, a sympathetic frown sitting awkwardly on his face.

            “I know.” Zayn said, letting his voice harden, as he took another step closer to Dirksen, “That’s why you needed Harry to be killed. Loose ends tend to talk.” Dirksen was not a spy but he was a trained politician and adept at hiding his thoughts and tells. But however good he was, Zayn was better at reading people. Dirksen’s posture tightened at Zayn’s accusation, his pupils dilated. He knew exactly what Zayn meant. He opened his mouth and Zayn could see the automatic denial ready to spring from his lips. Zayn twisted his lips and shook his head, not bothering to hide the disgust on his face. Dirksen shut his mouth with a snap before he eased himself back, leaning against his desk. He nodded slowly.

            “Ah. So you did go after Mr. Styles. ” He said, tone heavy with weary disappointment, as though Zayn’s rebellion was a personal affront.

           “He knew you were taking over the carrier.”

           “That’s why he needed to die.” He leaned forward, one hand extended toward Zayn as though in supplication, “Malik, this helicarrier is untraceable. The only thing the world will know is that someone is attacking strategic locations, meting out the kind of justice we could never do as a civilized country. And I will have the ear of the free world, telling them to whom we owe retribution. We can control the fate of the entire world. Isn’t that worth a few casualties?” Zayn narrowed his eyes. He had spent his life seeing how power corrupted, and how good men slowly gave in to the temptation of trying to control the world. He would have thought it wouldn’t shock him anymore. 

           “What happened to you?” He asked, not bothering to hide his confusion, “Did you ever believe in what SHIELD stood for? In the lives we are charged with protecting?” Dirksen’s façade of friendliness faded. He straightened his spine and smoothed his tie against his chest.

           “You wouldn’t understand.” He said, his lips twisted in a sneer, “Now, either the carrier will escape and your little friends die, or SHIELD will bring the whole thing down and your friends die. Do you really want to join them?”

           “You aren’t going to win, Dirksen.”

           “Oh, Malik. Self righteousness is a new look on you.” Zayn saw Dirksen’s arm twitch, but the man moved with a speed Zayn had not anticipated. Before Zayn could stop him, he had grabbed a gun, hidden beneath the lip of his desk. He pointed it, unwavering, at Zayn. “Have you forgotten where we found you? The things you have done? Because I haven't,” A cold, calculating smile flitted across Dirksen’s face, “And I assure you, your family hasn't.”

 

* * *

 

           Liam ducked behind his shield, allowing the metal to absorb the steady spray from Louis’ guns. He rolled to the side, keeping his body tucked tight so almost all his body was protected by the ring of metal.

           Liam inched forward, waiting for the opening. It came with the clink of an empty barrel. He gave Louis no time to reload, jumping from behind his shield to attack. Liam slammed his shield into Louis’ arm, using the twist of the motion to strengthen the punch him aimed at Louis’ chest. Louis danced backwards, but the motion forced him against the guiderails with nowhere to go.

           Liam headbutted Louis in the face, to blow sending Louis staggering back, his guns falling for weakened fingers. The weapons cluttered to the ground, before bouncing off the walkway to the ground two stories below. Louis paid them no mind, leaping at Liam bare handed.

           Liam was quick enough to catch Louis’ mid leap, and use the momentum to twist and throw try to him. Except that that seemed to be part of the plan, and Liam felt Louis’ legs wrap around his neck, choking him. Liam shoved his hands under Louis’ clenched thighs, and pitched forward into a roll. Louis let out a muffled grunt as he was crushed beneath Liam’s weight, his legs releasing by reflex. But Liam had overestimated the width of the walkway. Their bodies came into harsh contact with the guardrails. The metal held their weight for a breathless second, before giving way. Liam fell, fingers reaching uselessly for a hold.

            The twenty-foot drop was over in a moment, but Liam was able to twist and land heavily on his hands and feet, his shield five yards away. He glanced up to see Louis dangling from the walkway, his bionic arm clamped around the shattered guardrail. Liam watched, panting, as Louis released his grip, falling into a graceful crouch five feet from Liam. He unfurled himself with grace of a predator and advanced on Liam.

            Windows walled the control room, and Liam could see the flash and flare of explosions as the carrier fired on the world below. Every few minutes, the carrier would shake as another one of the swarming quinjet’s landed a shot. And one such shot hit a window ten feet from Liam, the glass exploding inward at the shot. The shot continued forward, striking a control panel. The machinery sparked and flared, flames licking out around the impact site.

            But the addition of fire did not distract Louis. He crossed his arms on his chest, whipping out two knives, their blades curved and barbed. He twisted and swung at Liam, who ducked and danced back but not before the blade cut across his arm. Liam stumbled back and was able to catch Louis’ forearms mid-motion, finger’s almost able to surround the entire limb. Liam grunted and threw his weight into Louis, rearing back and smashing his forehead into Louis’ nose, once and once more. Louis pulled back and spun, throwing Liam into wall.

       Louis dropped one knife and grabbed Liam’s arm, trying to spin him. Liam allowed the movement, followed it around, and used the momentum to drive him fist into Louis’ stomach. Louis grunted, a sudden expulsion of air, and went flying, landing heavy on the ground.

           Blood was trickling down the back of Liam’s throat from his bruised nose, thick and cloying. He panted, his chest burning with lack of air. The soldier was strong, stronger than any man Liam had ever fought before. But that wasn’t all that was making the fight hard. Louis knew Liam, knew his style and his moves. He seemed able to predict what Liam was about to do even before Liam himself knew it.

           “LIAM! Liam, I need those weapons systems down now!” Harry’s voice was high and panicked. Niall had said nothing for long moments. Time was running out and Louis was not going to let Liam go.

           As Louis sprang to his feet and rushed him again, Liam knew what he had to do.

           Liam was glad for the hours spent in the gym, for landing punches was instinct and muscle memory now. His fists still connected even though the tears he couldn’t hold back compromised his vision.

           “Stop it, stop it, stop it…” He murmured breathlessly, words falling from his mouth without thought. Liam moaned as he felt the bones of Louis’ rib cage give way and break beneath his fists. Louis was stumbling backwards from the force of Liam’s attack, but he was fighting still, weakening punches still landing solidly on Liam’s arms, face and torso. But Liam was stronger, and when the opening came, Liam didn’t allow himself to hesitate.

           Liam screamed for Louis as his punch landed; Liam’s wrist was straight, his elbow locked, his waist pivoted, all his strength focused through his fist. It connected solidly with Louis’ face and he flew, landing in a heap of limbs ten feet away. Liam didn’t give him a chance to recover. He leapt on Louis’ chest and ripped the knife out of Louis’ unprotected chest sheath. Liam took the hilt firmly in his hand and with a cry, he stabbed downward. Louis shouted as the knife connected. Panting, Liam scrambled off Louis, and stared down at him. The knife had gone through Louis’ bionic arm and imbedded deeply into the floor, pinning Louis down.

           “Stay down.” Liam panted. Louis snarled, teeth bared at Liam as he walked away.

 

* * *

 

           The wind was harsh on Niall’s face, squeezing the lining of his goggles deeply into his face. He didn’t dare look back; he could hear the shriek of the missile getting uncomfortably close to him. Niall pushed himself a little harder, but his wings were already carrying him as fast as they could. He was hurtling through the sky, the missile’s homing program locked on to his heat signature. He had quickly discovered that the quickest way to minimize the damage from the helicarrier was to divert the missiles, using himself as the bait. Of course, losing them once they had locked on to him was not as easy as he would have liked. Niall caught a glimpse of the jet stream of another missile to his right. That would work; he adjusted his flight pattern. Another thing he never thought he would do, Niall thought a little hysterically as he gained on the missile, was fly towards an explosive projectile with another hot on his tail. And he had been complaining about how his life was boring not five days ago.

           Niall watched, afraid to blink as he approached his target. He kept his body in line with it. He had only one shot, and he really didn’t want to miss. The missile was all he could see, his field of vision filled with it. He held his breath and pulled up, his wings groaning at the sudden change. His entire plan was riding on the hope that missile were not quite as good at trajectory changes as he was. Niall gave himself two seconds of distance before glanced back to check.

           It wasn’t perfect. The missiles didn’t collide head on, but they skimmed each other. Niall watched as they both skittered off **course** , before exploding harmlessly in the air. Niall indulged himself a loop-de-loop. Two more down.

           His didn’t have much time to revel in his success. A sharp percussion of gunfire exploded next to him. He banked hard to the left, wings stuttering from the air displacement of the quinjet that had zoomed overhead. Niall glared at its disappearing form as it arched over the carrier, curses falling easily from his lips. He was trying to help them, the morons. Being the random, unidentified third party in an aerial gunfight hadn’t been on Niall’s list of things to experience, and yet here he was. No sense of etiquette, these pilots.

            Liam really needed to get a move of getting control back to Harry.

 

* * *

 

           The pounding at the steel door hadn’t stopped, hadn’t paused in the last ten minutes. The pipe Liam had given to him was shoved against the door, but it shook to the percussion of the people trying to force their way in. Harry had reinforced the pipe with every free chair, board and wire he could find, but it was only a matter of minutes before his barricade fell. He could distantly hear the rumble of voices; he could only imagine what reinforcements they were calling in. He didn’t really want to find out though.

           He checked the main control board again, his fingers cramping from the quick typing. Nothing had changed; Liam still hadn’t brought down the system. Harry sucked in a shuddering breath, and lowered his head to rest on the flicking panel. Three seconds. He could panic for three seconds. Oh dear god, he was locked in a room with only one exit, and the people banging at the door who were hypothetically his own coworkers were probably going to kill him for treason. And Harry didn’t even have a gun. Harry squeezed his eyes shut, and tensed every muscle in his body. He held the tension for two seconds before releasing on the exhale. He still had work to do.

           He spun back to the mess of wires he had assembled by the door. He was almost there, he knew it. The destroyed remnants of one of the lesser control boards lay shoved to the side, Harry having already pillaged it for all necessary pieces. He just needed to adjust the output signal on the final circuit board… Harry tweaked the wire with the needle nose plier he had snuck into his pocket before leaving. He was rewarded by the hum of energy. He leapt back and watched his creation whirr to life. He could almost see the current weave through the wires, saw Liam’s pipe as the stream hit and it began to vibrate. The power flowed easily through the metal of the pipe into the metal of doorframe. Harry held his breath and listened. One moment. And other. There is was. A cry from the other side of the door, and another.

           Harry grinned in triumph. It wouldn’t hold forever, but trying to get through a door charged with 950 volts of pure electricity should give even SHIELD agents a little trouble. And might buy him enough time to pull this thing off.

 

* * *

 

           Zayn ignored the gun aimed at his face, his eyes locked instead on Dirksen’s face. He did not move, did not blink. His rage kept him calm. Dirksen’s face was getting paler as Zayn failed to react; a sheen of sweat of springing to his forehead. But the gun remained steady.

           “Interesting day, isn’t it Matthew?” Cowell’s voice broke Dirksen’s concentration. He glanced towards the sound, nothing more than a twitch of his eyes. But it was enough for Zayn.

            Zayn dove to the side, his momentum carrying him seamlessly into a roll. Dirksen fired, the percussion of bullets echoing through the office but none came close to Zayn. Zayn uncurled next to Dirksen’s desk, thigh muscles tensing, releasing and carrying him over the desk in a single leap. He caught Dirksen’s outstretched wrist as he sailed passed, twisting the appendage with the motion of his body. The bone snapped easily; Dirksen gave a breathless huff of pain as his gun fell from nerveless fingers. Zayn did not release the wrist. He pulled himself tight against Dirksen’s back, winding Dirksen’s arm under his own, before jerking to the side. Dirksen’s shoulder slid out of joint with a satisfying pop. Zayn bent sharply at the waist, flinging Dirksen over his head. Dirksen lay on his back, mouth open but all air forced out of his lungs by the force of the landing. Zayn gave one swift kick to the side of his head before straddling his chest. Dirksen gazed up at Zayn with clouded, dazed eyes. Snot was bubbling out of his nose, blood smeared across his chin from where he had bitten through his tongue. Zayn’s hands caught Dirksen under his chin, forcing his head up to its limit. Beneath his fingers, Zayn could feel the thundering of Dirksen’s pulse, the uneven struggle as he breathed. Zayn felt the tense cording of Dirksen’s muscles as he realized that with a press of fingers, Zayn could cut off his breath. Zayn dug his finger’s into Dirksen’s skin and allowed himself two seconds to revel in the panic in the other man’s rolling eyes. Zayn leaned forward until his lips were flush with Dirksen’s ears.

            “You don't get to talk about my family.” He whispered.

 

* * *

 

           The ladder to the main control station was gone, but Liam had come too far, had done too much to let something that inconsequential stop him. With a running leap, he was able to catch the lowest platform with the tips of his fingers. He grunted and swung himself, gathering momentum. He tensed his arms and abs, bringing his legs above his head and landing in a crouch on the second floor. The next level was easy; the tattered guardrails that had given way to his first fall made easy handholds. Liam leapt up and began to climb.

           The first shot barely registered, just another flash of fire along Liam’s arm. Liam hand spasmed and released its hold on the railing, but he was able to grab with his other hand, and force his body to the third level. But even as he gained the landing, the second shot caught him in the side, the force of the impact knocking him to the ground. He lay panting, trying to draw air into shocked lungs.

           Through the grating, Liam could see Louis. His bionic arm was hanging limply at his side but his other hand was holding his gun, recovered from some corner of the room. Liam should have known Louis was too stubborn to let something as small as pain keep him down. Louis was always better at that; compartmentalizing, and doing what needed to be done. He was a better fighter than Liam, always would be.

           Liam’s side was warm, wet with blood. He pressed a shaking hand against the wound, back arching against the sudden, stabbing pain. His breath faltered in his chest.

           “Liam?” Niall’s panting voice crackled in his ear, “Liam, please, I don’t know how much longer I can hold them off.”

           Bullets pinged off the grating, sending tiny shards of metal skittering around Liam as he forced himself to his hands and knees. Niall and Harry were all talking, their voices overlapping, conjoining into a constant buzz that forced Liam on. The control panel was a mess of lights, buttons and wires. But this did not require delicate work. Liam bunched his fists together, and with a roar, brought them down in the middle of the control panel. Sparks exploded around him, sharp currents raced up his arms but the reaction was instantaneous.

           “Yes!” Harry crowed in his ear as the ship lurched and lunged, all remote power cut off. The sudden motion knocked Liam off his already unsteady feet. He rolled away from the console, and, unable to stop his own momentum, slipped off the walkway and into the air.

 

* * *

 

           Cowell rounded the desk slowly, his hands clasped lightly behind his back. His calm footsteps were a counterbalance to the rush of violence from seconds before. Dirksen heard the approach and craned his neck the bare inch Zayn’s fingers allowed.

           “Malik has gone insane.” He croaked, “Simon! Help!” Simon’s eyes raked over Dirksen’s crumpled body, to Zayn still comfortably perched on his chest. He shook his head slowly.

            “I don’t think I can, Matthew.” He said, smiling softly in a caricature of regret, “You see, I have been having some issues with how you have been running things, so I think I am going to be taking over from now on.” Dirksen snarled at him, the sound cut off as Zayn tightened his fingers with a gleeful smile. “Thank you for letting me in on your plan Zayn, I do think it went perfectly. The World Security Council certainly enjoyed hearing that little conversation.” Simon lowered himself into Dirksen’s leather chair, wriggling back into the seat and flexing his fingers on the armrests. Yes, this he was going to get used to.

            “Now,” he said, “Let’s call off those quinjet’s, shall we?”

 

* * *

 

           Liam fell for one breathless moment, unable to twist or try to break his fall. He hit the ground, and it barely hurt. It was just another pain on top of everything else.

           Somehow, his earpiece survived the fall unbroken. Niall and Harry were speaking fast, words overlapping but their tone was triumphant. Liam couldn’t listen to more; a pair of boots entered his dazed line of sight.

           “Get up.” Louis growled. Liam slowly flopped his head up, to see Louis holding his gun trained on Liam’s head. “Stand. Now.” Harry must have taken control of the carrier, for it had leveled off in the air, no longer shuddering and quaking. Or was it? Liam could barely tell.

           He rolled onto his stomach, whimpering at the pressure on his wound. He forced his hands beneath himself and pushed up on shaking arms. He gained his feet only by strength of will, panting with the effort. Louis made no move to engage, again waiting for Liam to make the first move. Liam raised his arms, falling out of shear habit into the boxing stance. He met Louis’ eyes and realized he was done.

           “No.” He whispered, and let his arms fall limp at his sides. “No.” He said again, stronger, and stepped out of his fighting stance “Not again.” Liam’s part was done. He should have died fifty years ago. He was already on borrowed time.

           “I won’t fight you again. You might not remember, but your name is Louis William Tomlinson and I can’t hurt you.”

           Louis’ impassive face cracked. He let his gun fall to the ground and leapt at Liam with a cry. Liam didn’t fight as Louis wrapped both hands around Liam’s neck, shoving him against the glass window. Liam’s hands shot up, grasping at Louis’ fingers, but the metal appendages seemed to winch inhumanly tight.

           “No! Stop saying that!” Louis growled, spittle hitting Liam’s face, “I am not Louis! I am not your friend! I am no one! I am a soldier! I am death! Stop saying that!”

           “You are my best friend.” Liam forced out. Louis leaned in close,

           “You are my mission.” Louis whispered with a snarl.

           There was nothing more for Liam to do. He closed his eyes and let his grip on Louis’ hands loosen. With gentle fingers, he caressed Louis’ arms, touching the curves of flesh and metal with equal reverence. Liam barely felt the fingers around his neck tighten; he followed Louis’ arms up and blindly, delicately traced the line of his cheek, the jut of his nose, the paradoxical softness of his lips. The features Liam knew by touch, by memory, by heart. It had always been easier for Liam to focus on the known, the concrete. With his eyes closed and his fingers wandering, Liam could pretend this was his Louis, the Louis who loved him back.

           Liam could feel consciousness slipping away, his lungs distantly screaming for oxygen. He didn’t want to die. He was touching Louis again, had his face between his hands and it wasn’t enough could never be enough but was more than he ever thought he could have again.

           Louis… his bruised lips soundlessly formed the name. Louis… His fingertips were going numb, a loss more painful than the loss of air; he could no longer feel Louis. He could feel his last strength draining from his arms and they fell limply to his sides.

           And Liam was… gasping, and choking and breathing. There was a fire in his throat as his body gasped desperately for oxygen. His body was slipping down the glass, but he couldn’t stop his descent. He did not know how long he lay on the ground gasping before he was able to force his eyes open. Louis was standing before him, and was he shaking, or was Liam shaking? Liam wasn’t sure. But he could see Louis’ gun, retrieved from the floor and now pointed at Liam’s face. Liam couldn’t force himself to care.

           “Why?” Louis said, or Liam thought he said; he could barely hear, barely see the bend of Louis’ lips as he spoke. His deadened eyelid drifted closed.

           Distantly, Liam could hear the crackle of the fire approaching. A wall of flames from the exploding circuit panels, he knew, now hid the doors. There was no leaving, no escape. Liam was going to die here. But the thought wasn’t painful, didn’t cause a squeeze of panic the way it had the first time he had died. It was better, Liam thought, to die at the hand of someone he loved. A cold comfort.

           He forced his heavy eyes open one more time; Louis hadn’t moved, was standing before him, gun trained unerringly at Liam’s forehead.

           “I love you.” Liam whispered, not sure if he had enough breathe to give life to the words, or if he imagined them falling from his lips. But loving Louis was something he had done for as long as memory’s span; he would always make the effort for him.

           He let his eyes drift shut, Louis’ face branded beneath his eyelids. He distantly heard the retort of the gun being fired but there was no pain, no pressure, just a weightlessness and Liam was falling…

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Erm. Yeah. Sorry for the schmoop - I really have no excuse.  
> One more chapter to go! Woo!


	10. Chapter 10

CHAPTER 10

 

 

            There was a beeping, steady enough that it had sunk into Liam's subconscious until it was almost undecipherable from the silence. He could feel awareness creeping slowly into his brain. 

            His eyes blinked open, fighting to see through the crust that had formed over his eyelids.  His face twisted as the first rays of light hit his sensitive eyes, fluttering his lids to both adjust to the light and clear the automatic tears from them.

            The first thing he saw was a pair of converse sneakers a foot away from his nose.  Liam stared at them, and wondered what drugs they had pumped into his veins to make bodiless shoes appear. But the feet twitched, and flexed to the side, revealing a pair of legs leading to a Niall. He was slouched in a plastic armchair, his bottom so close to the edge of the seat the only thing keeping him off the floor were his feet braced against Liam's bed. He was staring silently at something in his lap, brow furrowed in concentration.  

            “Niall?” Liam tried to whisper, but all that came out was a dry grunt. But it was enough. Niall's head shot up; he met Liam's eyes and tired but enthusiastic smile spread across his face. 

            “Hey Cap. Have a good nap?” he said; Liam let himself revel for a moment in the warmth of Niall’s tone. Niall lifted a book from his lap, and waved it in front of Liam's nose. Liam's eyes crossed trying to read the label as it swung rapidly back and forth, but he was barely able to discern it was some type of crossword collection.

            “You chose the perfect time to wake, my friend, I am totally stumped!” Niall’s bright voice echoed in the tiny room. "What was the name of Michael Jackson's third studio album?" Niall looked at Liam expectantly, and all Liam could do was blink at him. The name Niall mentioned sounded vaguely familiar, but Liam couldn't remember more than the foggiest image of a dancer, maybe? Niall must have read the blank incomprehension off of Liam's face. He blinked, glanced down at the book in his hand, and grinned back up at Liam sheepishly.  He dropped the book onto a table beside him.

            “Oh right. Wrong person to ask.” From beside the now forgotten book, Niall picked a glass of water, and gently placed the straw between Liam's dry lips.  Liam sucked carefully, wincing as the cool water slid down his aching throat.  Though the first sip felt like glass, each one after soothed the ache until it was almost gone. Niall patiently held the cup steady until Liam had his fill and pushed aside the straw with a strangely weak hand.

            "What happened?” Liam rasped. Niall didn't answer at first.  He put the cup back on the table, and carefully inched his chair closer to Liam's side. He stared at Liam, seeming to silently assess him. Liam stared back. Now that his head was starting to clear, Liam could see the tufts of Niall’s hair were less his normal gelled look and more the product of an awkward sleep. There was a bruise on his cheek, a gentle discoloration and Liam couldn't tell if it was healing or just beginning to surface. Liam had no idea how long he had slept. Niall, seemly happy with whatever he had seen in Liam's face, moved his chair closer again, and began to speak.

            "We saved the day, that’s what," he said, "Regained control of the carrier, saved everyone on board, stopped the attack on London, exposed Dirksen– we are all heroes." Niall said the word with the over-the-top excitement of one who had never had to wear the title. Niall clapped his hands together, before rolling his eyes and he leaned back in his chair, "Of course, we managed to create about a billion dollars worth of damage, and the helicarrier’s aren’t exactly supposed to be disposable, and the Prime Minister is right pissed at us. But hey! Mission accomplished." Liam blinked at Niall, trying to muddle through the barrage of information, but he really didn’t have the energy. As long as Niall seemed happy, it must have turned out ok.

            He just couldn't remember why he was here. 

            “Hospital?” Liam asked, his tongue thick and awkward in his mouth. Niall’s grin slid off his face and was replaced by a serious expression; it looked incongruous on Niall’s usually jovial face.

            “It turns out even popsicle-like artifacts from World War II aren't immune to guns.” he said. Liam felt a twinge in his gut; less a pain, more of a memory of a sensation.

            “I was shot.” Liam said, tasting the words slowly as he muttered them. He could almost remember the burn of metal hitting his stomach.           

            “Twice.” Niall nodded "You had a bullet in your side, in your shoulder and a couple gouges out of your arms. And then you took a swim, which was a stupid idea, just so you know. Oh, and you rather healed around the bullets, as they didn't bother digging them out. So you may need a doctor’s note to get through metal detectors for the foreseeable forever.” Niall cocked his head to the side, eyes squinted as though mentally working through the logistics of Liam’s future with scanners. Liam pressed his palms against the gentle give of the mattress, pushing himself up the bed. The movement shook Niall out of his daydream and he frowned at Liam, opening his mouth to, Liam was sure, berate Liam for moving. Liam cut him off before he could speak.

            “What happened to Louis?” Liam asked quickly.

            “I tell you we managed to both avoid and create a major international incident, you are in the hospital having narrowly escaped fatal injuries and all you can think about is Louis? That’s…" Niall's voice trailed off. He quirked his head to the side, and wrinkled his nose, considering. "That’s... totally understandable actually." He finished slowly, before pointing with a casual flick of his hand to the opposite side of the room, "He is right there, sulking in the corner.”

            Liam twisted his head to follow the line of Niall’s finger. Based on the sudden screech of the machine above his head, it wasn't the smartest idea.  Or maybe the machine was yelling because of his heart, suddenly pounding heavily in his chest. Liam didn't really care. Because Louis was there.

            He was sitting cross-legged on a hard backed chair. He was dressed in scrubs, a comically oversized sweater over his shoulders, hiding- Liam's was sure- the gleam of his metallic arm. His hair was down, long strands pushed over his shoulder but for one stubborn, tangled tendril that had fallen over his eyes. Eyes which were locked on Liam. Even as Liam stared back, Louis gaze did not falter, shameless in its intensity. Liam couldn't read his eyes; they were shuttered. 

            He was still. But for the minute movements of his shoulders as he breathed, Louis could have been a statue. Liam could distantly hear the increased whine of his heart monitor, betraying his emotions. But Liam didn't care. To see Louis alive and so close was not enough. Liam's mind had never done anything so cruel as to almost give that which he wanted most, but Liam wasn't willing to trust anything but touch.  

            Liam tensed and, with a grunt, was able to flop one noodle-like arm up, silently asking for Louis. 

            Louis had never failed him. Hurt him, left him, forgotten him maybe, but never failed him. Louis had never known how to. Liam had to believe that hadn't changed. 

            Louis lurched towards Liam's hand, the transition from unnatural stillness to motion dizzying in its quickness; Liam's breathe caught in his throat. Fifty years, lifetimes of experiences, but maybe, just maybe- oh god, please- they could have this again.

            But Louis stopped before he was out of his chair, body awkwardly frozen mid-movement. His eyes darted across the room. Alarmed, Liam followed his gaze, starting a little to see Niall silently watching their exchange.  Liam had forgotten Niall’s presence entirely, but found he could care less if he and Louis had an audience. He just wanted Louis. But Louis apparently, for once, had more reservations. His eyes flicked rapidly to Niall, to Liam, and back again. Niall met Louis gaze calmly. Liam felt his brow furrow as he watched Niall- calm, still smiling Niall- put his pen down and let his hand slide to the table at his side. His fingers curled casually around the handgun Liam hadn't even noticed until that moment. Liam drew in a sharp breath, a bead of panic blossoming in his chest.

            “Niall, no!” He said, trying to force his body to move. His mind was suddenly blank but for the thought that he had to get to Niall, get the gun. He couldn't watch Louis get hurt again. But Niall lifted his other hand, stopped Liam’s frantic movements with an open palmed gesture.

            “Stop moving, you idiot.” He said, frowning at Liam. He looked back of Louis, before settling back in his chair. Niall rolled his eyes with an exaggerated motion, fingers loosening around but not releasing the gun.

            "I am going to work on my crossword. Just don't mind me. " Niall lifted his crossword book up, eyes focused on the page with hyperbolic intensity. Liam knew Niall’s attention was nowhere near his puzzle; Niall was aware of everything little motion in the room. Liam didn’t care at all.

            Louis rose out of his chair, movements this time slow and controlled. He didn’t acknowledge Niall again as he approached Liam’s bed, his eyes boring into Liam’s. Liam didn’t move, didn’t speak, too afraid the moment would shatter. But, as Louis got close, he once more put his hand out in a wordless plea. Louis gaze stuttered down to the outstretched fingers, but he didn’t refuse Liam. His own hand, the one made of flesh, inched forward, as though he was afraid if he moved too fast Liam would change his mind and turn away from his touch, as though Liam ever could.

            Louis touched Liam's hand, grip soft and tenuous on just the tip of Liam's fingers. Liam grunted in frustration and twisted to grab Louis hand with both of his. He found he just didn't care when Louis jumped a little at the contact, he didn't care if his grip was too tight; he was touching Louis again, and he wasn't sure he was ever going to let go. 

            "Hi." He whispered, not trusting his voice to say more.

            “Smooth opening, Payne.” Louis said, his face carefully blank but for the barest shadow of a smirk twitching the side of his lips. The words were mocking, but tinged with a brand of affection so familiar Liam's chest tightened and his eyes start to sting. He blinked rapidly to clear his vision instead of closing his eyes; he didn’t trust this enough to believe it wouldn’t disappear. 

            Liam hadn't dared believe that he might have this again; Louis was too much to wish for and not get. Liam didn’t care that his eyelashes were clumped together by the hint of tears.  Louis was watching him, gaze switching from their joined hands to Liam's eyes.  Louis was unnaturally still, unnaturally silent. His face was white, eyes pinched at the corners.  His hand was preternaturally still between Liam's, but his upper arms were shaking as though he was both desperate to yet too terrified to move.  

            Liam pulled slightly at Louis hand. Liam felt his throat tighten at the uncertainty so foreign on Louis face. 

            "Please?" Liam whispered, and Louis allowed himself to be pulled forward until he was laying next to Liam on the cramped hospital cot.

            Liam was big. His shoulders took up three quarters of the width of the bed, the bottoms of his feet firmly pressed against the footboard.  By contrast, Louis’ hard, lithe body seemed to barely take up any room at all, perched as he was in the very edge of the bed.  

            Louis wrapped his arms around Liam hesitantly. Liam had no such compunction, wrapped his own arms around Louis middle and buried his face in the curve of Louis throat. He carefully moved his legs until they were resting against Louis', and slowly slid his thigh between Louis', waiting for the sensation of Louis tensing, dreading the thought of him pulling away but unable to stop himself from trying to get as close as possible. But Louis didn't pull away, simply opened his own legs and curled them around Liam, until they were touching, chest to chest, thigh to thigh. Liam screwed his eyes shut and took a steadying breath, the twist of almost indistinguishable limbs achingly familiar; one he had convinced himself he would never have again.  Louis grip around Liam's shoulders tightened minutely, and Liam could feel Louis' heavy breaths against his scalp. Liam wondered if Louis could possibly have missed this as much as he had. As though he knew Liam's thoughts, Louis' grip tightened even more, the pressure almost painful across Liam's shoulders. Liam welcomed the pain, it was hard enough to believe this could possibly be real. The tangible grip made it a little easier.      

            “I barely know who I am,” Louis whispered into Liam’s hair, “But I know you. And when you look at me, I want to know remember everything.” Liam could feel the pulse of Louis’ heart under his cheek,

            “I know who you are. I know enough for the both of us.” Liam pulled away from Louis reluctantly. Louis let him go, finger’s releasing their grip on Liam with a jerk, like he was afraid to force Liam to stay. But Liam only pulled back far enough that he could meet Louis’ eyes, and see his face. He leaned forward, face angled towards Louis’. But Louis lurched away.

            “Liam.” Louis whispered urgently, eyes darting to the corner. Liam followed his gaze. Niall was still sitting there, though he had turned his chair sideways as if to give them the illusion of privacy. His eyes were focused on his crossword with almost comical intensity - his cheeks were bright red. And Liam remembered stolen kisses in hallways, furtive touches when no one could see them. He remembered loving Louis in secret.  That wasn't going to work anymore. 

            “I don't care.” He touched Louis’ cheek with a gentle finger. Louis closed his eyes, and nuzzled into the touch, his opened mouthed pants moist on Liam’s palm.

“God,’ Liam choked out, “I really don't care.” Louis’ eyes flickered open and Liam couldn’t wait anymore. Slowly, Liam stretched his neck out. He moved slow, giving Louis time enough to back away, to laugh it off. But Louis didn't, he watched Liam, perplexed, as though he couldn’t believe Liam was there. Liam could sympathize.

            Their lips touched. Neither of them moved beyond a soft, almost chaste press, the air from their breath mingling together. Liam felt his head spinning, reveling in the touch. Though decades had passed since their last, it was achingly familiar. Louis lips were cracked and dry and his breathe sour but he tasted like home.

            But Liam had lost Louis too many times for the gentle pressure to be enough. He felt a whimper growing in the back of his throat and he dared to press a little harder against Louis. He slowly brought his hands up from Louis’ jaw, threading his fingers through the long strands of his hair. Louis shuddered under his touch.

            Liam’s face hurt. He could feel the skin on his cheeks pulling and stretching, was aware of bruises he hadn’t known he had. But no amount of pain could have made him pull away from Louis. Not now. Liam licked lightly as Louis’ closed lips, and when they opened to Liam’s silent request, Liam’s moan was swallowed by Louis’ tongue. When Louis pulled away, Liam whined in the back of his throat and chased Louis’ mouth with his own.

            “Liam,” Louis whispered, his voice soft with a disbelieving awe as he cradled Liam’s face in his hands. One of Louis’ hands burned like a brand, while his metallic hand was cold as ice. Liam arched into the touch, turning his head to press an open mouthed kiss to the center of Louis’ metal palm. “Liam, ” Louis groaned again, his hand shaking against Liam’s lips, before he pulled it away, “I think I have done terrible things; I am not sure if I can…” Liam grabbed at Louis’ retreating hand, clutching it between his own and bringing it close to his chest.

            “I don’t care.” Liam said, because it was true. It was selfish, Liam knew it was selfish but he couldn’t bring himself to care. Whatever had happened before now could never make him push Louis away, “We will find away to make it better.” Louis was there, and Liam would do whatever it took to keep him there, “Just. Stay? With me?” 

            “Ok.” Louis said softly and leaned in for another kiss, his movements slow and tentative before Liam met him halfway.

            They had each other, and somehow the rest would work itself out.            

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, schmoop. I know its not as realistic as the movie, but who wants realistic? I like my endings happy :) thanks for reading my silly little story :))

**Author's Note:**

> Part one complete!  
> Please let me know if its ok - this is my first long fic! Second fic here! Fun times!  
> I hope I haven't scared you away from the coming chapters!  
> Do let me know what you think- all comments/questions are adored!  
> Cheers!


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